


That's Mama Lucina to You!

by AnPresonPeepul



Series: Mama Lucina [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breaking the past, I've got ships, Lucina is Clueless, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent-reversal, Peck your canon, Time Travel, you'll have to wait and see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 55,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23780056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnPresonPeepul/pseuds/AnPresonPeepul
Summary: Changing the future was all she wanted to do. Getting to the past seemed like the way to do it, but an accident sends Lucina much further back than she expected. When she finds herself advisor to ten-year-old Exalt Emmeryn, she’ll have to keep the halidom together to make sure they get to the future in the first place.
Series: Mama Lucina [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854112
Comments: 45
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

Lucina was no time traveler. Up until a few days ago, she hadn't even thought such a thing possible. When Naga had told her about it, she'd been all too eager to take her up on the offer. With nothing but a crumbling world to lose, she was desperate enough to seize any chance to fix it.

That said, this was not quite how she imagined it to be.

The world around her spun every which way, compressed into a tight, glowing blue vessel. Lucina tumbled through it, barely aware of the pulsing lights around her, the river of time pushing her down a trail of never-ending rapids. She couldn't even tell what was up and down, not with how she kept turning head over heels over head over heels, on and on and on. Not that she could see herself flipping out and over like the world's clumsiest dancer falling down a flight of stairs.

Lucina was sure she would have lost what little she had for breakfast long ago if it weren't for the fact that she did not seem to have a stomach anymore. Or a body, for that matter. She flailed around, lost in the current of reality's lifeblood, desperate for something, anything, to catch her and slow her fall. She could feel her arms and legs splashing against the frothing rapids threatening to drag her under, but all she saw below her was a strange, glowing blob of yellow.

To say it was weird would be a gross understatement.

She felt so lost. She didn't know where she was going, she didn't know how to stop. She didn't even know how long she'd been here. It felt like she'd been falling for an eternity, dreams of seeing her father again lost in the endless flow of time.

She flung her arms out, or at least, she felt them fling out. Anything she could feel brush against her non-existent fingers, she tried to grab hold, but they all slipped from her grasp like fish rushing downstream. She became more frantic, thrashing in the rapidly accelerating stream but try as she might, it only carried her faster and faster. There was no escape for her.

Then, a voice.

"I think we should set up camp. I don't want Lissa to push herself anymore."

It was a voice she recognized, a voice she hadn't heard in so long. A face came to the front of her mind, one that she held so dear she was barely aware of the words that slipped from her own mouth.

"Father?"

Her vision blurred. She didn't even have eyes, yet she still felt a wetness pool around them. Through the dizziness sloshing around in her mind, racking through her head like an echo, she let her eyes roam around until they finally fell on a streak of light above her. A streak of hope.

Unlike the others, this one lingered around her. It seemed content to stay by her side. She could hear voices from them, most of them muffled. Yet through it all, she could still hear the voice of her father.

Was... was this her way out?

Pushing off against the current, like she was propelling herself through water, Lucina reached out to grab it.

Something slammed into her, and she flew away.

"No!" Lucina tried to grab it again, but she was helpless to watch the streak of light grow smaller in the distance. That was her way out, she had been so sure of it. She'd almost had it, and... whatever this was, it had ripped that away.

A surge of anger shot through her. Without a physical body, it felt like her entirety coursed with a red-hot fury, giving her another burst of speed and sending her flying after it.

This time, she saw a purple shape tear through the time-stream toward her. The blue light rippled, parting in a stream of white foam, before the purple shape slammed into her.

Lucina fell back. As soon as her vision cleared, she tried to find that one sliver of light again. Her way out.

But it was gone.

Her eyes fell on the purple shape before her. The one thing between her and escape.

For the longest time, Lucina had felt aimless. Off-balance and lost, tumbling through the flow of time without any direction. An eternity could have passed and she wouldn't have known it.

But with this... whoever this was, whatever this was... just being in front of her, she felt more focused than she'd ever been.

"Out of the way!" Lucina wasn't even sure she'd spoken. She'd felt the words leave her mouth, but she couldn't hear it.

The purple shape responded, though, glowing brighter for a moment before it settled back into its dimly lit hue.

When Naga had offered her a second chance, she'd seized it with both hands. She was desperate enough to take it, and by the Gods, she was going to have it.

Behind the purple shape, a light flickered and twitched, swimming against the time stream.

A cry tore itself from her. She felt her hands stretch out. She felt the ethereal presence of time around her part as she lunged for the purple shape.

And from the corner of her eye, she noticed the purple shape weave out of her way, and knock her into the side.

A bright light engulfed Lucina's vision. She watched as the stream of time disappeared from her sight, the purple shape watching as the light sealed up around her. She watched the streak of light, the one with her father's voice, shrink in the distance.

And then she was falling and falling and falling.

And then, like someone had thrown a color onto the blank canvas of light, the world splashed itself onto her vision in a cloud of dust, the rough stone cradling her back as she crashed into the floor.

* * *

_"Did you really beat King Gangrel by yourself?"_

_"Well, I did have a little help. But he was a bad man, and he wanted to kill so many people. He almost killed your mother, so I had to protect her."_

_"Wow. Father, you're so amazing!"_

* * *

Lucina woke to the sounds of screaming and the metallic tang of blood. She was on her feet in a moment, her sword drawn a second after. The sounds of battle echoed within the walls around her, and a muffled blast shook the ground. She had no idea where she was, or what was happening, but the faint smell of blood in the air heightened her senses and set her heart pumping. She had to fight, even if it might be for her life. Tightening her grip on her sword, Lucina stepped forward.

Her legs promptly gave out, and she ended up with a mouthful of sand.

Lucina spat the sand out of her mouth. As she pushed herself off the ground, wiping the dirt off her clothes, she frowned.

"Sand?" she murmured, letting a few grains fall through her fingers. As she finally tore her eyes from the floor and let them roam about, she noticed the strange glyphs running down the walls. She didn't recognize any of them, save for one: the six-eyed mark of the Fell Dragon.

"Grimleal..."

She took a step forward. Her legs buckled, threatening to fail her again. Lucina's head throbbed with pain, the aftermath of being flung into the past, no doubt. Still, she clutched her head, feeling around the edge of her mask, and forced herself forward, pushed through the haze on a pair of legs that felt foreign to her.

Grasping at the edge of the doorway, Lucina barely managed to pull herself through it. Almost instantly, her eyes were assaulted by the sun through her mask, its scorching glare setting the sandstone floor ablaze. She peered through the blinding sheen, only to see a swarm of blue and purple writhing on the floor.

As her eyes adjusted to the light, though, the blue and purple solidified into forms, then into the fluttering capes and cloaks of mages and soldiers. A battle was set before her, already in full swing.

"Where am I?" she said. Her frown grew, and her hands lightly traced down her throat. Her voice sounded unfamiliar to her.

"When am I?" she added a second later. She was in Plegia, the Fell Dragon's mark as good as gave it away, and in the future, there were hardly enough people to wage a war with.

In the distance, she saw the flag of Ylisse fly high in the air. She was sure this was the Plegia-Ylisse war her father had regaled her with time and time again, the one where her father fought against the Mad King Gangrel.

As she scanned the crowd for a familiar face, any of the Shepherds who had fought by her father's side, and found none, however, worry began to take root, a worry that only grew when she realized the Ylissean flag bore colors of blue and gold.

"I thought Exalt Emmeryn's colors were green and gold," she muttered.

A fireball hurtled out from the crowd, sizzling and crackling with magical energy. Even from a distance, Lucina could feel the heat peeling off from it as it soared over her head and exploded into a geyser of red and orange.

The ground shook with the impact, cracks racing down the walls. A piece fell loose, and it crashed in front of Lucina, shattering on impact and peppering her with shards of stone. On instinct, she stepped back. It was something that might have saved her life.

A silver streak cut across her vision, and the tip of a sword nearly brushed the bridge of her nose. A soldier almost stumbled into her. Lucina's steel sword came up in an instant, ready to defend herself, but she relaxed upon seeing the blue peeking through the cracks in his armor.

A Ylissean soldier, then. An ally. As she took a moment to steady herself, though, she noticed the odd weight the steel sword had in her hands.

_Steel?_ she thought, frowning. _What happened to Falchion?_

A memory slammed into the front of her mind; Falchion in the hands of her brother. She'd given it to him for protection, so sure she could take care of herself without it.

Almost as quickly as he had appeared, the Ylissean soldier flew to the side. His body crashed into the wall with a metallic crunch, and a massive cut ran from his shoulder to his hip. The sand around him began to take on a red color, not that Lucina noticed. Where the Ylissean soldier had stood seconds ago, a Plegian fighter towered over her, the axe blade in his hands glazed with a shimmering red.

Lucina fell into a fighting stance on instinct. It was a movement she'd had ingrained into her head, after having to fight off the Risen time and time again.

Which was why she was so confused when the Risen fell into a stance as well.

She shook her head. No, this wasn't the future. There should be no Risen here.

"Raugh!"

Her eyes snapped open just in time to see the Plegian fighter's axe descend toward her. Her sword met it head-on.

Then the axe plowed right through, forcing her blade aside as it dove toward her face.

The axe blade dug into the stone floor, bouncing off with a clang. As the Plegian fighter stepped back, Lucina hissed in pain. Her eyes fell to her arms, hanging limply by her side, her sword dragging against the floor.

Her arms didn't even feel like her own. They burned, still numb from the impact. She'd almost been killed because they couldn't hold, fatigued just like the rest of her body.

Lucina gripped her sword tighter, tight enough for her nails to dig into her palms. They would not fail again. Not when so much was on the line.

She glared down the Plegian fighter. He continued forward, unfazed. His second swipe went just as wide as the first one, Lucina almost losing her balance as she stepped back to avoid it. The Plegian fighter growled, and he raised his axe again.

Then, in the crowd, Lucina saw a flash of blue hair.

Was... was that her father?

The aching in her limbs suddenly faded. Even as her father disappeared in the crowd, she felt something bubble up from inside her chest. Her father was here.

A silver gleam caught her eye. Her eyes widened, and she turned just in time to catch the Plegian fighter's axe on the blade of her sword.

She cried out as her sword was almost ripped from her hands again. The Plegian fighter twisted it away, and it took all her effort not to let slip from her grasp. She never noticed him rear his head back.

The Plegian fighter smashed his skull into her face, and her vision exploded into white. She stumbled away. Her legs, already weak before, gave out, and she tumbled back.

The crowd almost swallowed her up. Instantly, she found herself twisting away to avoid being skewered by a lance. Arms and legs flew in every which way, Ylisseans and Plegians alike trapping her in a frenzy of death. Lucina couldn't tell what was coming where, but as she looked back, through the blades and flames, she saw the Plegian fighter running toward her, still hungry for blood.

Lucina turned tail, slipped past a Ylissean knight, and ran.

_I need to get out of here,_ Lucina thought. She ducked under a sword swing and curled her nose in distaste as the pungent smell of copper hit her nose. _I'm not supposed to be here. This is such an important battle. If I change anything here, who knows how it could affect what's to come._

No matter how fast she ran, the battle just seemed to stretch on, like she was stuck in the middle of a jungle where it rained blood. The arid, salty stench of sweat, the bright flashes of the weapons as they painted the sand red, it all felt too real for her through the fog over her mind.

The fog parted just in time for her to see a blade streaking straight for her heart. Without thinking, she sidestepped the thrust. As a bulky arm swept past her, she tried to slip under it.

Someone grabbed onto her hair and dragged her down. She grunted as she crashed into the ground, a cloud of dust rising up around her face, and her sword clattered as it fell away. The back of her head throbbed, but the feeling had started to return to her arms. She slid one under her. When she lifted herself off the ground, an armored boot slammed into her shoulder and dug it into the ground.

She heard her arm pop. Pain lanced through her shoulder, and she bit back another cry. Dazed, she barely managed to lift her head to meet her attacker's gaze.

Above her towered a monster of a man. His face, and any emotion they may have held, was obscured by a faceplate. Blue streaks ran down his armor, jagged plates making up the most of it, covering his entire body, from his chestplate down to his boots, marking him out as a Ylissean great knight.

His shoulders heaved. Through the faceplate, she could hear his ragged breaths. And though she couldn't see his eyes, she could feel his glare pierce through her, like he was stabbing her with his gaze alone.

"You..." he wheezed out between his heavy breathing, "You dare get in my way? You dare run away from the battle like a coward?"

With each word, his foot only pressed harder. It took every ounce of willpower she had to keep her teeth clenched.

"Sir," she spoke softly, barely hearing her own voice over the sounds of battle, "I fight for neither side. I stumbled upon here by chance, I swear."

"You wear our colors, yet you dare lie about your allegiance? You disgust me." The man spit onto her face. To her relief, the spit splattered over her mask.

Relief quickly turned to dread when his scowl grew deeper.

"And quit wearing that. Your mask cannot hide you from your fate," he snarled, and he reached down for her face.

Feebly, she tried to wrench the mask from his grip, but her only free hand could barely hold its own against his meaty fingers. Her panicked struggles elicited a sadistic laugh, and he held the mask high in the air, dashing any hope that she could take it back.

Lucina, on the other hand, couldn't be any more afraid. Her eyes seared at all the light flooding into her skull. Her left eye burned more than her right, as if to warn her that the brand on it was exposed. Without her mask, there was nothing to keep it hidden, nothing to keep her royal blood under wraps. Everything was going so wrong so quickly, leaving her completely winded from one terrible thing to the next.

The instant the great knight lifted his weight off from her, she jumped to her feet. The great knight didn't even wait for her to steady herself before he shoved her forward into the battle. Behind her, she saw a flicker of yellow.

The great knight must have expected her to take the blow for him. It would explain his furious shout when she hit the floor, letting the thunder spell fly over her head and slam into his chest. As it disappeared into a shower of sparks, a web of electricity spreading over and around him, Lucina lunged for the mask in his hand.

The mask dropped to the floor. She barely had time to register that before the great knight grabbed her hand instead, turned her around, and drove her to her knees.

"Coward!" His hot breath washed over her head, steaming with rage. Lucina yelped as he twisted her arm behind her back. "If you cannot take a blow for your Exalt, you would serve our cause better dead than alive."

His sword glinted in the sun as he rose it over her head. Lucina struggled, even with one arm pressed painfully to her back, her other arm hanging limply by her side, her hair matted with dirt and her face exposed to the harsh sun. She struggled, even when her captor refused to budge, or when she felt him bring his sword down. It was hopeless for her to try to escape.

The great knight's sword crashed into the stone floor with enough force to gouge into it. Streams of blood trickled down its blade.

Not hers, though.

Lucina reared her head back. The sword brushed past her face, barely missing the tip of her nose. Before the great knight could realize he'd missed, Lucina brought her head forward. She sank her teeth into his bare, unprotected fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword.

Bone cracked under the force of her bite. The great knight howled, his voice carrying over the open desert. The crushing grip around her arms vanished, as did the hand holding onto his sword.

Lucina threw herself onto it. As soon as her fingers curled around it, she tore it from the ground.

This man, whoever he was, was a fanatic and a bully. He didn't deserve to fight at her father's side.

She didn't think as she moved. She let the movements come to her as she whirled around and drove the sword into his chest.

Only too late did she notice Falchion in her hands.

Lucina dropped the sword like she'd picked up a burning coal, but the damage had already been done. A hole sat at the center of the great knight's chest, piercing through his chestplate, flesh and bone, and gone out through the back. The great knight groaned once. Then, he crumpled, the clang of his armor crashing into the floor loud like thunder. As he lay on his side, Lucina finally saw the blue mane peeking out from behind his helmet.

Far behind her, she heard someone cry out, "The Exalt is dead!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a full hour into the past and Lucina's already made a splash. In the game, when Lucina lands in the past, her father is already on the other end of the portal, and the Risen are already climbing out. Right out of the gate, she has a good side she needs to help (her father) and a bad side she needs to defeat (the Risen), so she doesn't really have to think, just kill the Risen and run off before anyone can question her. Here, things aren't so clean-cut, thus, her making her first mistake.
> 
> This is my third attempt at writing this story. I have an older version of the story already up, if you don't know what I'm talking about. You can read it if you want, but you're not missing out on anything aside from a few OC name-drops and some Anna-related stuff.
> 
> This whole idea of Lucina going back far enough to meet a child version of her father is one of my favorite story ideas, probably equal to Brotherhood of Smash, but the last time I tried it, I forgot to set goals for my characters and it didn't go so well. I hope I can do it justice this time around.
> 
> Also, *cough cough* if any of you want more time-travelling goodness, you should read Father Gothel, by Violin Cameos, which is basically the same concept, but with Grima instead of Lucina. It's not nearly as action-packed, but if you can handle a little OOC-ness, it's quite the sweet and fluffy treat.
> 
> On the topic of an update schedule, it's the same deal as the old story. I'll try to update every Tuesday, but don't be surprised if I burn out over the weekend and decide to take a day off to do other projects instead.
> 
> Anyway, I wish you all well and stay safe!


	2. Chapter 2

The scorching desert sun bore down onto Lucina as she sprinted through the dry grass. Searing wind slapped against her cheeks, and grains of sand trickled into her shoes with every step, abrasive against the soles of her feet. For every step she took, her legs cried a little harder, but she could hardly feel it past the prickling running up her tighs.

Feeling moisture running down her forehead, she wiped an arm over her face. It came away slick with sweat. Lucina gave a disgusted grunt, shaking her arm dry. As soon as she wiped it clean, another wave of sweat cascaded down her face. The crunch of the brush underfoot marked one step after another. It fell on deaf ears, the ringing in her head much louder than any noise around her, all centered around one thing.

She'd just killed her grandfather.

It couldn't have been anyone else. Falchion. Fighting on Plegian soil. The strange colors of the flag. It all swirled together to paint a very different picture than she would have liked.

A glance over her shoulder only revealed the barren plains. To her relief, no one seemed to be following her. That... that was good. The Ylisseans were probably busy with their dead Exalt.

The second her eyes wandered, her foot caught on a root. She managed to steady herself, but her run had taken a knife to the gut.

Her steps slowed. Lucina willed herself to move faster, but her legs, worn from time travel, the battle, and now this, refused to listen. The numbness coiled around her legs unwound inch by inch. The instant they did, the pain caught up to her, practically slamming into her.

Her head felt like a hammer, and her joints tore at their sockets. The great, heaving breaths she took rattled her lungs, and a faint thrum resounded in her ear, her heart pounding against her chest.

She'd already lost track of how long she had been running. An hour? An hour and a half? Five minutes? It didn't matter, just as long as she didn't get caught.

Fighting her fatigue every step of the way, Lucina cursed when her feet snagged on another tangle of grass. It was an action she regretted immediately.

As soon as her voice passed through her throat, it cracked. A sharp blade wove through the inside of her neck, gouging smooth, dry chunks from it. Each breath passed through it rubbed against the throbbing pain, leaving them feeling raw every time she sucked in a gust of air.

Her throat felt unbearably dry. Lucina let out a ragged cough. Her hand fell to her side, fingering her belt for her canteen. Her fingers traced over leather, over her still empty sheathe, and over the metal buckle. But her canteen was gone.

She would have cursed again. Instead, she let out a yelp as her legs finally gave out, and her knees buried themselves into the dirt. Her hands followed, throwing themselves out in sacrifice to keep her face in the air. The scorching dirt seared her palms. She bit back a cry, instead curling her hands into fists, digging into the ground as she did.

Dimly, she heard herself mutter, "...can't stop here... my father needs me..."

She tried to push off the ground. Her bones groaned in protest, and she buckled instead. Her lips twisted into a scowl, not ready to accept defeat just yet.

She tried again. This time, her bones weren't so kind, threatening to fail entirely if she tried one more time. Lucina refused to listen. Not when so much could be on the line.

Her grandfather was dead. Killed by her own hand. She couldn't save her father if she was executed for treason.

Just when she thought she'd finally built up the strength to push herself back to her feet, a glimmer caught her eye.

Even through the shimmering heat, it was impossible to miss the tiny brook of water, sparkling in the blistering desert sun. The cool, refreshing water, running past her, barely an arm's length away.

It was a tempting offer, to stop and take a drink at the brook. She would have to give up, even if only for a moment. But then, she was only human, wasn't she? With her canteen missing, dropped on the battlefield or left in the future, she didn't know, what other option did she have?

A short break couldn't hurt.

* * *

It would only take a moment, Emmeryn told herself.

_Just one more minute in bed,_ she thought, turning over, tucked within her bedsheets. _I'm not ready._

Of course, she also knew that if she didn't get up now, she never would be.

She peeled her eyes open, and the soft morning light flooded in. Birdsong drifted in from the open window with the cool breeze, her curtains fluttering and flickering in the wind. The sun, flowing in alongside it, bathed her white sheets in a heavenly glow like the breath of Holy Dragon herself had wrapped itself around her and kissed her cheeks with warmth.

A sigh dragged itself out of her lips, just as Emmeryn dragged herself out of bed. Once the bedsheets rolled back, leaving her exposed to the damp air, she wanted nothing more than to pull them up again. She shivered at the sudden drop in temperature around her, but her body adjusted to it before she could complain.

She sat up, the mattress crackling under her shifting weight, and she arched her back and stretched her arms into the air. Her joints popped, as she let out a small yawn. Her hand came up a second too late to cover it. She pretended she couldn't have caught it if she wanted to. Her tutors would have had her head even then, but they weren't here yet, so it wasn't as if such things mattered.

Again, her bedsheets called to her, its inviting embrace tempting to fall back into. She ran a hand through her hair. A hum slipped from her, and for a moment, she let her mind linger on how nice it was to just sit at the edge of her bed, the cares of the world nothing but distant thoughts.

As tantalizing as its offer was, though, such was not to be. Judging from the sun clawing its way into her bedroom, she would have lessons soon enough, as much as it pained her to admit.

_If only I could hold the sun in its place while I sleep,_ she thought. _Just another hour is all I need._

As if to rub it in her face, reality came knocking on her door.

Emmeryn frowned. She'd not even have a few minutes to herself, it seemed.

"Come in!" she called.

She realized a second later that her plain yellow nightclothes might not be the best manner to address anyone, but by then, the door had already creaked open.

An elderly man emerged from the door, a pair of spectacles sat on his nose. "Your Grace, I–" His eyes fell on her, and he stopped. "Oh, I didn't know you had yet to dress yourself," he said, bowing his head. "Forgive me, I'll return when you call for me."

"No, it's fine, Tomas," Emmeryn said, and she held out an arm to stop the elderly man. "Please, speak."

"I must insist. It is improper for one as lowly and humble as myself to speak with you on such terms."

"Nonsense. I'd very much like to hear all the same. It must be urgent if you've come to me this early."

"Ah. Well, you see…" The man, Tomas, tapped his fingers together, his lips stretched into a sadden expression that seemed all too restrained. "The news I bear... it's not as pleasant as you might imagine."

"Not as..." Emmeryn's brows pulled down, taking a second to wrap her mind around his words. "You mean bad news?"

"Yes. That. Bad news... regarding the... war, you see."

Emmeryn's brows sunk even further at that mention. "The war?"

"Does this displease Your Grace? If it does, I shall refrain from speaking of it."

"No, it's just that–" Then she noticed the discrepancy. "Your Grace? Tomas, that's my father's title. I'm not Exalt yet. And I thought all this war business was supposed to be directed to someone more suited to react."

"Well, you see... I believe it important for someone of your standing to know the circumstances surrounding you and your family, and..."

"Tomas? What are you trying to say?"

Tomas' face twitched. "We tried our best to save him. The brave men and women on the front lines, they fought so hard to keep him with them, but in the end, he..."

Suddenly the room felt too cold for her, the world too big. Her stomach clenched, and the sunlight, moments ago a comforting presence, seared through her clothes and into her skin. All her carefree thoughts from the morning felt so distant.

"Your esteemed father, Exalt Alabaster Lowell, is dead."

* * *

"Dead, you say?"

"Yes, it would seem so. I saw him die myself. I assume all according to your plans?"

"Yes, yes. He wasn't long for this world, anyway. This changes nothing."

The faint cry of insects filled the air as soon as the conversation dropped. The tent flap fluttered, the wind pushing it aside as it circled the two men in the room. Around them, the sound of distant chattering broke through the morning rhythm, and the shadows of soldiers milling about flickered on the tarp.

Sitting at the other end of the table, Validar scowled. His eyes narrowed, almost as if to drill holes through the head of the wyvern rider sitting before him. Orton, he vaguely remembered from his earlier introduction.

It wasn't as if the news displeased him. Far from it. He had planned the Exalt's death, but to hear that he'd been killed earlier was a pleasant surprise, especially since it gave him more time to hunt down a certain pest hiding in the kingdom.

It was less of a problem as to what the message was than who was delivering it.

"Well, if you have nothing more to say," Orton said, turning back toward the tent entrance, "then I'll see myself out–"

"Wait."

A smirk tugged at Orton's lips. A smirk Validar would have loved nothing better than to quash with a Waste spell to the face.

Instead, he let a smile of his own spread over his face. "Come. Sit," he said, and he motioned for the chair across from him.

Orton pulled out a chair next to it instead. Validar's eye twitched, but he didn't comment. Instead, he reached down and pulled out a small pouch. From the pouch, he pulled out a piece of hard candy.

"Caramel?" he said, offering the bad toward the wyvern rider.

Orton raised an eyebrow, but he didn't move.

"It's sweet," Validar added. "A delicacy from the royal kitchen."

"Then I don't mind if I do." Orton leaned over the table and plucked the candy from Validar's fingers, much to Validar's irritation, and popped it into his mouth. Validar let his hand fall back beneath the table.

"Orton." He let the name roll around his tongue, testing the feel of it in his mouth. "I don't believe we've met before. A new recruit, I assume? One of Lieutenant Vasto's wyvern riders."

Orton's eyes wandered to his fingers, and he drummed them against the table. "Not for long, not if I have anything to say about it."

"Oh? Ambitious, are we?"

"I was my master's top student. I'd expect nothing less of myself."

"Yes. Well, I haven't seen your prowess in battle, so I can't say."

"You only need to see me once, I'll promise you that."

Validar's lips curled. "Oh, I've already seen enough."

"Pardon?"

"You wouldn't be here if you truly were climbing the ranks. No, you'd be back at the front lines, wouldn't you, messenger boy?"

"Aha." Orton chuckled. "The others don't share my sentiment. Simply because I do not have the same experience they do, they place insignificant errands on my shoulders. A simple mistake to make, yet one that only a fool would make. But you, you're no fool, are you?"

"A fool?" Validar chuckled. "Boy, do you know who I am?"

"You're Validar, the king's hierophant and tactician. Sorry–former king's hierophant and tactician."

"And what does a tactician do?"

"I don't know." Orton waved his hand in lazy circles. "Plan things for the Grimleal, I assume? Last I heard, you were planning something big for them."

"Big doesn't even begin to describe it."

"I've heard you've been pretty successful so far, eh? Wouldn't you hate it if something went wrong? Maybe because you couldn't get all the details?"

Validar gritted his teeth. "What do you want?"

"With our king killed from our most recent battle, and the Ylisseans withdrawing their troops, there's been talk of civil war. The king never had an heir, you see, so the throne is up for grabs. What I want," Orton said, leaning over the table, "is a favor."

"A favor? Those can be quite dangerous."

"But also very powerful."

Validar muttered something.

"I can't hear you," Orton said, and he cupped his ear.

"I'll think about it."

"Not good enough. I'll need your word. An advisor's word is worth quite a bit, wouldn't you say?"

Validar hummed. His chair creaked as he fell back into it, his hands steepled before him. He stared down Orton, completely silent for a few seconds.

"Describe to me," he said at last, "how the Exalt died. I know you have a written report on you, but surely it would be so much better to hear it from an esteemed warrior as yourself."

Orton glanced up at the ceiling, and he chuckled. "Well, it happened sometime around midday, in front of one of those old Grimleal temples. The last I saw of him, he was writhing on the floor with a big hole in his chest."

Validar's eyes closed, and he nodded. "But who killed him?"

"Your word. Then I'll tell."

Validar didn't speak. Instead, a smile spread over his face. Silence draped over the table, the only sound the crunch of teeth grinding hard candy. It stretched on for seconds, then minutes, until Orton finally broke it by clearing his throat.

"If you've got nothing to say, I suppose you'll never know what I have to say," he said.

The chair creaked as he tried to get up. His eyes widened when his arms wouldn't budge. When his gaze fell beneath the table, he found oozing tendrils of magic wrapped around him, binding him to the chair. A sinister glow washed off from him, and as he looked back at Validar, the hierophant only grinned.

Only then did Validar allow his hand to rise above the table, dark magic woven around his fingertips.

"You call me a fool for underestimating you, yet the only fool here is you. Your pathetic mortal mind cannot begin to comprehend power such as my own."

Orton opened his mouth, perhaps to plead for his life.

"Elfire!" Validar cut him off, thrusting his hand toward the wyvern rider's face.

The tent lit up in a bright orange.

Validar stretched his lips into a grin, his teeth gleaming in the low light. He savored the scent of burning flesh for the few seconds it lingered. Writhing on the floor, Orton's screams began to fade as his consciousness slipped away, half of his face charred black.

Looking down at him, Validar scoffed. "If you want to move up in the world, I suggest you keep in mind who you antagonize, lest you find yourself in the maws of a more powerful predator."

He cared little if Orton had heard, or if he was still alive at all. As far as he was concerned, if Orton woke, he'd learned his lesson.

The tent flap rustled. Validar glanced back up just in time to see a Grimleal priest enter, his head bowed.

"Is now a poor time, Master Validar?" the priest asked.

"Not at all," Validar said. He motioned to the unconscious Orton lying on the floor, traces of smoke still wafting from his face. "Find somewhere to dispose of this nuisance. In the middle of the camp, in a river, whichever is convenient."

"As you wish."

As the Grimleal priest knelt to pick up the body, Validar leaned back, his lips pursed as he let his thoughts stew.

_The Exalt's killer, huh? It can't be one of ours. The soldiers are hardly the quietest bunch, so if it was, the rabble would never shut up about it. It's either one of the Exalt's own men, or a neutral party. How inconvenient._

The Grimleal priest had made it halfway out the tent flap when Validar called for him to stop.

"Chalard, was it?" he asked.

"Yes, that is my name," the priest replied. "Or so I've been told."

"Tell the wyvern riders we have in this camp to tail any Ylissean pegasus knights they come across. Tail, not engage. Sparking another war is the last thing I want to do, at least for now."

"As you wish."

"And another thing: once you finish, I want you to head to Ylissitol. Keep track of any prisoners that find their way to the dungeons. If the Exalt's kin are anything like him, they'll stage an execution for his killer."

"And then?"

"I'll give you further instructions once this mysterious killer is caught."

The Grimleal priest bowed his head one last time. Then he disappeared through the tent flap. His footsteps, made ever more present by the crunch of dry grass, faded soon enough, leaving Validar to himself.

Flames crackled and popped as he lit a plume of dark magic in his palm. Watching it flicker in his hand, an ever-changing swirl of green and purple, he said, "Soon, my love, I'll find you. And when I do, you'll learn what happens to those who get between a man and his power."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My computer shut down in the middle of writing this, making the process of getting it done a ton more complicated than it should have been. Also, I went back and tweaked the last chapter so the Exalt wasn't wearing anything on the hand Lucina chomped down on. At first, I was going to let it fly, but then I realized I could probably do something with removing that pesky gauntlet from existence.
> 
> Something that the older version of this story didn't do so well was setting up the major characters. Heck, it took me twelve chapters to get into Aversa, so this chapter does just that by introducing Emmeryn and Validar into the story as soon as possible. Unless you have a reason for keeping a character in the shadows, it is best to simply get your major characters out as soon as possible.
> 
> As for the non-major characters, both Orton and Chalard are characters from the game. Since they old had 3-4 lines max, I had to do a lot of bending to try to squeeze as much character from them. Tomas isn't exactly an original character either. I gave him the name, but he actually is based on a character from the actual game. If you can guess who, I'll give you an internet cookie.
> 
> I'll try to get the next chapter out by next Tuesday. Until then, I wish you all the best, and remember to stay safe!


	3. Chapter 3

A thick, oily scent stirred Lucina from her slumber. It curled around her face, snaking its way into her nostrils and tainting her thoughts with visions of food until her empty stomach made itself all too apparent with a resounding growl.

Lucina groaned, silently cursing her weak body for giving in. There was no food, not in the middle of the desert. Her body seemed insistent on reminding her of the fact, the hole in her stomach drawing further down with each passing day. Yet it seemed only now did her senses attempt to grant her a moment of reprieve, tempting her with the smell of food she knew did not exist.

 _I suppose returning to the world was inevitable,_ she thought. _But waking up hungry in the middle of the desert is hardly the best way to start on good terms with the day._

Then she opened her eyes. To her surprise, she found herself in the middle of a room, a sheet draped over her, and the only sunlight the beams slipping in through the window. It was cool and cozy in here, a far cry from the blazing heat of the desert, and the mattress beneath her was a luxury when compared to the sandy floor she'd been forced to sleep upon for who knew how long. A small part of her coaxed her back into the void of sleep, if only to enjoy the warm embrace of proper bedding for a little longer.

Paranoia kept her awake.

 _Who found me? Where am I? Did I get away? What's going to happen to me?_ Questions, too many questions swirled around her head. What little sleep remained in her fled, cleared out by all the thoughts stirring her mind.

The mattress beneath her crackled as she pushed herself up, her hand coming up to cover her brand on instinct. The room she found herself in was spacious, much too spacious for a bedroom. The air around her felt cool, though that could have simply been because she had grown accustomed to the sweltering desert air. Over the wide, wooden floor, she found a small table, a purple and yellow cloth draped over it.

Behind that, a woman knelt before the fireplace, her dark hair draped down over her shoulders and flowed down her back.

Lucina had never seen this woman before in her life. The closest she could compare her to was Aunt Tharja; the shade of purple in her hair was very similar, yet it was too wavy. Aunt Tharja's face was also a little longer, her eyes a little more narrow, and she would never be caught wearing such a warm smile.

Lucina blinked. The woman's smile only grew, and her chocolate brown eyes held Lucina's gaze steadily.

"Good morning," she said, her voice carrying her words with a melodic cadence.

Lucina's questions immediately rose to her throat, all rushing to the front of her mind at once and causing such a clutter that all that came out of her mouth was, "Good morning."

She took a moment to organize her thoughts. "Excuse me," she said, clearing her throat, "but, if you don't mind me asking, who are you?"

"Ah. It seems I've not introduced myself yet." Taking a moment to shift a pan away from the fire, the woman stood straight and with her arms at her sides. "My name is Aria."

"Aria. What happened to me? I don't remember coming here."

"I'd be surprised if you did. I found you lying unconscious in the middle of the desert," Aria said. "I hope you don't mind me bringing you home."

"No, it's fine," Lucina said. "I'm not sure I would have survived without you. You have my gratitude."

The woman hummed, and she turned back to her cooking, and the sound of sizzling filled the air once more.

Lucina was sure she had never heard of this woman before in her life, yet something about her felt familiar. The way she held herself, the way one corner of her lip tugged up in the faintest traces of a smirk when she spoke, it all struck an uncanny nerve with Lucina.

Then again, with the appearance of the Exalt before Emmeryn–her grandfather, she reminded herself–she could simply be the parent of one of her aunts or uncles.

Tharja came to mind, obviously. The similar hair color could be written off as a coincidence, but with her grandfather's death fresh in her memory, she didn't want to end up killing anyone else's grandparents as well.

Henry was another option she considered, being the other Plegian she knew. Of course, that was assuming she was still in Plegia.

A glance out the window told her she was no longer in the desert or the dry brushlands. There were too many trees for that, but even those took on a strange, yellowish hue, much too dry for anything deeper into Ylisse.

Through the trees, she managed to spot a cobblestone road weaving through the woods, small houses lined up on either side and further down, she could see a crowd milling about. It was such a peaceful scene.

 _Is this what life was like, in the small villages and towns before the Fell Dragon attacked?_ She'd not seen settlements this far from Ylisstol, having spent most of her early life cooped up in a castle. With the Risen roaming the lands, smaller settlements like this must have been wiped out, so this was a novel sight for her.

"Where am I? What is this place?" she asked, turning back to the dark-haired woman.

Aria looked over her shoulder and chuckled. "I'm afraid there isn't much I can say."

"Is there?" Lucina frowned. "I saw a village outside. Surely this place must have a name to mark it on your maps."

"There's no name I can give you. This village needs none, not with its presence completely wiped from the maps."

"I see." Lucina narrowed her eyes in suspicion. She kept them on the woman, even as she turned back to her cooking.

A hidden settlement. Lucina couldn't help but find that a little fishy.

"Perhaps, then, you could tell me which kingdom we are in?" she said.

Without looking, the woman said, "Oh, I believe we should be very close to the Ylisse border."

"So this is Plegia, then?"

The woman didn't reply. Lucina's irritation only grew, and a frown pulled at her lips. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but the woman cut her off with a sharp rap against the pan.

The woman lifted a small piece of meat from the pan. Lucina watched bubbles of oil fleck the surface, even as the woman slipped it into her mouth. Just hearing the wet sounds the meat made as the woman chewed it had her own mouth drenched, and she was tempted to ask for a piece.

Of course, it was rude to ask for food. Being a guest in the woman's home, it was much better to wait for an invitation

As she swallowed, a grin broke out on the woman's lips. She turned her head to a door on the side.

"Robin! Breakfast is ready!" the woman called.

Then it all clicked into place. A little too well for Lucina's liking.

There was no response at first. When the silence dragged on, Robin's mother frowned.

"Robin! Are you trying to find that rat of yours again?"

"I'm not gonna give up!" came the faint reply.

"Dear, I know you'll catch him someday, but right now, you need to eat!"

Another pause. Then she heard someone say, "Coming!"

 _It couldn't be that Robin,_ Lucina thought. _It would make so much sense, but for me to have not considered that... there must be some mistake._

And yet, the second she caught sight of the familiar shock of white hair, there was no denying it: somehow, against all the odds, she had ended up in the house of her Uncle Robin.

Her mind sputtered, coming to a halt in a shower of sparks. The hair was the discrepancy, sure, but aside from that, it matched up. The woman's face matched what little she could remember of Uncle Robin's, and her stance matched the confident way he carried himself whenever he spoke. Uncle Robin had never been one eager to speak of his past. Perhaps it was an effort to keep this village hidden?

She was so distracted by her thoughts, the conversation at the other end of the room passed through her ears like noise.

"What did you make for breakfast?" Robin asked.

"I'd like you to take a guess."

"Well, I saw you bring home a basket of eggs and a big bag of meat. The bag was too big to be chicken, so... that means steak and egg!"

"That's a smart lad," Aria said, her grin stretching her cheeks. "Come over here! Breakfast is waiting!"

"Okay!" He strolled over to the table, but he paused when he noticed Lucina sitting on the other side of the room. "What about her?" he asked.

"Her? Eh, she won't mind. She doesn't look hungry, not with that scowl on her face. I think she might want a little more rest."

"Hm?" That got Lucina's attention. "Oh! No, I'm very hungry. I apologize if I came off as hostile. I just... have a lot on my mind."

"Me too!" Uncle Robin chirped. "My mom says I got lots going on in my mind cause I'm so smart!"

"I understand," Aria said. "I know all too well how much thoughts can weigh you down. Perhaps a little food might help you think? And heal whatever you've got on your face."

"The what?"

Robin's mother motioned to her left eye, and Lucina remembered the hand she had over it.

"I'd like an eyepatch," she blurted out. "I've got a nasty scar beneath my eyelid, and I'd prefer if no one had the chance to see it."

"I'll see if I have some," Aria said, already getting up from her seat.

"But you don't–"

Robin's mother leaned down to whisper something in his ear. Robin stiffened, before he relaxed and nodded.

As Lucina watched, she felt suspicion creep up on her again. _Do they know about the brand? I can't have been conscious for very long, so they couldn't have caught a glimpse of my eye. Could they?_

Lucina already knew how smart her Uncle Robin could be, and if his mother was anywhere near his level of intelligence, her secret might not be easy to keep. While she was sure they would never harm her, she didn't know how such a reveal could shape the past. She needed to be careful.

As his mother turned and slipped through the door leading further inside, Uncle Robin fixed her with a smile.

"Where did you come from, miss?" he asked

"Why do you ask?" Lucina replied.

"When mother found you, you were all dirty and covered in sand. Unless you were birthed from the desert, you have to come from somewhere."

Lucina smiled a little. "Well, the last place I've been was a big temple."

"Which one?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. It couldn't have been too far. Perhaps a day's walk from here?"

"The nearest temple is a two-day walk," Robin's mother said as she emerged from the door. "You must have walked a long way if you've come from there."

"Yes. I suppose I must have." Two days? That didn't sound right, but she had been delirious. It was hard to keep track of time if you couldn't even keep track of yourself.

Lucina watched as Aria slid back into her chair. She pressed an eyepatch to the table, in front of a third chair at the side.

The invitation was obvious. Lucina wouldn't be able to take it without coming to the table. It wasn't as if Lucina was in any position to refuse, though, so she plodded over.

"That reminds me," Aria said as Lucina fell back into her own chair, "I've introduced myself, and I'm sure by now you know the name of my son. What's your name?"

Lucina thought for a moment, before she said, "You may call me Marth."

* * *

"Miss Marth?"

Lucina glanced up to see Uncle Robin approach. She shifted on the stump she was sitting on, a little uncomfortable under his gaze. Young as he was, he still had that familiar analytical look that could unnerve her.

 _He can't be any more than four,_ Lucina thought. _My father was very close to his age, and Aunt Lissa was only two years younger. At least this means I haven't prevented them from existing by killing grandfather._ The thought brought some relief to her, knowing she hadn't messed up too badly.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I'm thinking."

"Did mother's cooking do nothing to help?"

Lucina shook her head. "I'm afraid not."

"That doesn't sound right," Robin said, pouting. "Mother's cooking always helps me when I think too hard."

"Well, maybe I have too many thoughts for it to help me with."

"Like what? Mother says I'm very smart. I think I can understand."

"You might," Lucina said, and she gave a long sigh, "but... they're heavy thoughts. Much too heavy for anyone else, even if you'd understand it. Maybe if we meet again, I'll tell, but now is not a good time."

"Oh. Okay."

Robin scurried around her and out of sight. A few seconds later, he poked his head back in front of her.

"Have you seen my rat?" he asked.

"Your rat?"

"Yes."

"Is that it?" Lucina said, and she pointed over his shoulder.

He followed her finger. "No, that's a bunny rabbit," he said after a moment of consideration.

"Is it?"

The rabbit leaping into the bushes behind answered her question.

Lucina frowned. "I think a bunny would be a better pet."

"But it's not my rat. My rat is my... what did mother say? I'm like my rat's father."

"Its father..." Lucina laughed dryly. "This rat is very important to you, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"I can understand that. My father is very important to me, too." She tapped a finger against her chin.

"Are you thinking about your father?"

Lucina looked over at Robin, her eyebrow raised. "How can you tell?"

"You made a face when you started talking about your father, so it has to be about him."

"Huh. You are very smart, aren't you?"

Robin's proud smile spoke for him, even before he said, "I know."

Lucina glanced away. A cool breeze combed through her hair, and she sighed. For a moment, she let herself drift into the past, suddenly reminded of all the times she'd spoken to Uncle Robin when she was a child herself.

Funny how, now, she found her situation reversed.

"He's so important to me, and because of something I did, I can't see him anymore. At least, not for now."

"Then you can help in the village."

"Hm?"

"Mother always says that time goes by fast when she's helping the village. If you have to wait, you might as well do something with it," Robin said, shrugging.

That didn't sound like a terrible idea. Waiting in the village for the Plegia-Ylisse war. Whenever Robin set off, she could go with him, if only so she could meet up with her father.

"Maybe I will," she said, and the faintest traces of a smile flickered on her face.

Surely she had time to spare.

* * *

The servant's supply closet was cold, cold enough for her breath to fog. It was jarring how different it was from the rest of the castle. No one in their right mind would ever want to stay, surrounded by soggy mops and dusty brushes.

That was exactly why Emmeryn had decided to hide here.

Big, fat tears rolled down her cheeks and onto her dress. The sob that escaped her was the furthest from graceful she could remember being. Her etiquette tutors would berate her for such a showing. Sitting with your head tucked into your chest and drawing your knees together with your arms is bad posture, they'd say.

Either that, or they would tell her what a great man her father had been, give her a necklace adorned with shiny gems and run away before she could ask why he was so great. She didn't know which she would have preferred.

With her father dead, everyone wanted to tell her that they were sorry for her. There were just so many nice words, so many nicer gifts all in so little time.

She didn't have the heart to tell them she still couldn't believe all this was unfolding before her. So she'd come here instead.

When she heard the door creak open, she pretended not to notice.

 _Is it another noble, come to tell me they're sorry and leave me with another dress?_ she thought bitterly.

Maybe if she didn't pay them any attention, they would just leave her alone. Maybe if she stayed curled up like this, they wouldn't know it was her. She only hoped they wouldn't come over and remind her that her father was gone.

As the sound of footsteps drew closer, her hope began to wane.

She tried to tell herself they weren't here for her. _Maybe they just need a brush in the back. Or maybe they need to put away a pan from the kitchen._

And then the footsteps stopped. Emmeryn lifted her gaze just a tiny bit.

The crushing despair she felt when she saw a shadow cast over her was immense.

She stayed frozen in place, even as they moved to sit beside her.

Emmeryn didn't talk. To her relief, neither did they. As far as Emmeryn was concerned, everyone was happier this way. She was fine, staying like this, so long as they didn't open their mouth and say–

"D-do you want a cake?"

"Huh?" Emmeryn was so surprised, the response slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"My mother told me to bring them to Miss Simone... b-but I think you need them more. You know, since you're so sad."

Emmeryn let her gaze travel up a little more. Her green eyes met dull brown. A girl, just a little bit younger than her brother, sat next to her, her mousy hair hovering over her shoulder in thick locks. A bright yellow flower sat over her right ear, woven into her hair with delicate care, and a silver platter sat on her lap, four small cakes set around the center.

"Won't you get in trouble?" Emmeryn asked.

"I'd feel bad," the girl said, "but I'd feel worse if you got ignored."

Emmeryn didn't speak, taking a moment to process it all. Cake had been the last thing on Emmeryn's mind, not with her father's death hanging over her like a thick cloud of sadness, but now that she had mentioned it, Emmeryn couldn't recall the last time she'd eaten.

"O-oh. I'm sorry, you don't like cake, do you?" The girl must have taken her silence as a negative reply, and she started to draw the platter away.

"No, not at all!" Emmeryn said. "I love cake, it's my favorite food in the world!"

"Really?"

"...No?"

The girl's face twisted into a frown. "You don't have to pretend for me."

"I'm not pretending. I'd love cake. Could I..." she motioned toward a cake, looking at the girl for permission.

"Oh. Take one."

Touching it delicately, as if it would disappear at any moment, Emmeryn lifted a cake dish off the platter. The sweet scent stirred her empty stomach, and for a few seconds, the only thought in her head was how good it would feel to sink her teeth into the cake, how the sugary taste would flow over her mouth like a river of sweetness.

"Is this normal?"

The girl's soft voice, barely more than a whisper, brought her back to reality, the cake inches away from her mouth. As she moved the cake down, Emmeryn turned to face the girl.

"Is what normal?" she asked.

"Crying a lot," the girl said.

"I don't know?"

The girl's lips wobbled. "I didn't cry a lot when I learned my father died."

Something crawled up the back of Emmeryn's throat. That... didn't make sense. Did it?

"Why?" Emmeryn said, her voice wispy and dry.

"Well, I wanted to cry. But my mother, she never did, so it just felt wrong. Am... did I do it wrong?"

The bitter taste of guilt filled Emmeryn's mouth. Her stomach churned, and suddenly she felt like throwing up.

What was she doing? She... she needed to be strong. For Chrom, and for Lissa. She was their big sister, and they needed her more now than ever. She couldn't be sitting in a corner by herself and eating cake.

The cake dish touched down on the platter with a clink. It took all her strength to tear her fingers from it.

"Thank you," Emmeryn said, turning to the girl. "T-thank you for your help."

"Huh? But I didn't help!" the girl insisted.

"Just... Y-you have your job to do, as do I." Emmeryn motioned toward the door, all while hoping the girl missed how her voice wavered.

The girl looked unconvinced, but in the end, she rose to her feet and headed for the door. As she watched the girl disappear, Emmeryn felt a voice in her head tell her to stop the girl.

Emmeryn shook her head, and the voice fell silent. She didn't have time. As long as her father's killer was running rampant, Chrom and Lissa might never be safe. No one had any idea what they wanted, but if it meant death to the Exalted family...

She would catch them first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not expect this chapter to turn out so long. This is probably the longest I've ever written a chapter, bar anything I've done for The Yellow Soul. I stayed up quite late getting this out, but in the end, I got it done and I'm proud that I did.
> 
> While the first scene is certainly the longest, the third was probably the hardest to write. Since the characters involved are so young, I'd assume they might not have the best idea of how to handle death and all that jazz. It was tricky to find a balance between what little a child might know, and how I'd motivate Emmeryn back into action. In the end, I think I found a fair way to handle it, even if it's not all that fair to the characters.
> 
> Why do I do this? What did these characters ever do to me?
> 
> The next chapter will be up by next Tuesday. I can't promise it'll be as long as this one, but there was just so much stuff here I had to get down. As always, I wish you all well, and stay safe!


	4. Chapter 4

"Can I stay?"

Robin's mother, Aria, gave her a curious look. "You seemed in such a hurry this morning," she said.

"I'd just woken up, so I hope you'll forgive my frantic behavior," Lucina replied. "That said, I've had a... change in perspective."

"Was it my son? Has he been a bother to you?"

"Not at all. He simply helped me realize a few things. My situation was hardly as dire as I assumed, and I've just realized I need a place to sleep."

Aria stroked her chin and hummed. "Yes, he's smart like that," she said, "Well, an extra mouth to feed shouldn't be too much of a problem, so long as you can pull your weight for the rest of us."

Lucina saw her chance, a chance she was eager to grasp. "What is it you need done? I can be useful, just tell me what to do."

"There is one thing I'd like you to do." Aria pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket, along with a few gold coins. Before Lucina could blink, she found a basket thrust into her hands. "It's a shopping list. I'd like you to gather everything here at the marketplace down the road. If you could do that for me, I'd be free to do more work today."

Lucina stood a little straighter, her face firm with purpose. "I'll get it done," she said.

"I appreciate it," Aria called after her as she turned and headed for the door.

A warm breeze rushed in as soon as Lucina pulled the door aside. She basked in the sunlight for a bit, before she started out the door.

Her steps clicked against the cobblestone road. Lucina's eye fell to the piece of paper in the basket. She had feared a wait in solitude, with the Plegia-Ylisse war years away. This, though, could make the wait a bit more bearable.

The thought brought a smile to her face.

_Thunk!_

Lucina jumped. Her hand fell to her side, but all she grasped was air. Her heart pounding, she whirled around, her foot sliding back to run.

Robin stared back, the hatchet in his hands buried halfway in a log.

Her shoulders fell, and Lucina sighed in relief. _This isn't the future,_ she kept reminding herself. _Not every stray sound could mean a Risen ambush._

"Miss Marth? Is something wrong?" Robin watched her intently, curiosity evident on his face.

"I'm fine." Lucina waved a hand over her shoulder. "I thought I heard of something."

Robin's hands fell to his side. "Did it sound like tiny feet? Because it could be my rat."

"I'm sorry, it wasn't." Lucina chuckled. "What are you doing out here?"

Her words brought a frown to Robin's face. "Mother is having me chop firewood."

"Is that so? Why such a long face, then? You look like you're at the end of the world."

"Mother says it's to help me build my strength, and I don't want to. Why do I need to chop wood when I have my smarts to help me?"

"A little extra muscle couldn't hurt, could it?"

"I suppose."

Lucina knew little about her Uncle Robin. She knew that he was her father's best friend and one of his best advisors. She also knew him to be a ferocious warrior on the battlefield, and a kind listener to his friends. When he was alive, she had loved him dearly.

Yet seeing a pout on his face, Lucina couldn't help but think it was funny how such a childish expression seemed out of place on him. Briefly, she imagined him as an adult with the same pout, and she laughed.

"What's so funny?" Robin's pout intensified, and he put his hands on his hips.

"Nothing you have to worry about." Lucina turned away, before she called out behind her, "Good luck chopping that wood."

She didn't wait for him to reply before she continued down the road. As she walked, she pulled the list into her other hand. She unfolded the list, and she read the first item scrawled at the top.

"Pears, huh?"

* * *

"What is this?"

"They're the things you asked for."

Aria gave her a flat stare. She plucked a round, yellow fruit from the basket set on the table, holding its glistening skin up to the sunlight streaming in from the windows.

"I don't recall putting apples on the list," she said. "Pears, perhaps, but not apples."

"Is that what they are called? The vendor said they were the same thing."

"Of course he'd say that, the greedy bastard," Aria muttered into his palm. Turning to Lucina, she said, "Marth, I'd advise you to take what you hear from a stall owner with caution. Most might leave out a detail or two, if only to sell you more of their produce."

"Will they? I shall keep that in mind."

"And how come you took so few oranges?" she asked, dangling a pineapple from its pointy green leaves.

"You asked for three pounds of oranges, did you not? And three pounds is approximately the weight of a small child, so I took as many as I thought would weigh as much as a child."

"Your definition of a small child must be a great deal smaller than mine." Aria let out a long sigh, before she let the fruit in her hands fall back into the basket. "Could you not have asked for assistance here as well?"

"Ah... you see, the vendor was quite silent for someone so large. I was so startled when he approached me I... ran off."

So she'd gotten scared. It wasn't her fault. She wasn't used to being unarmed, and her first response had been to flee. If she still had her sword, it wouldn't be a problem.

"Mister Raphael won't be pleased to hear that, you know. He's quite the sensitive soul, and he has a heart of gold."

Lucina blinked in disbelief. "Really? I didn't mean to offend him. If I have, I shall apologize the first chance I get."

"I suppose it can't be helped now," Aria said. "I'll have to work with what I've got."

Lucina stepped back and let Aria count the items in the basket. After a moment, she asked, "Marth? There are only five apples here."

"Oh. Robin asked for one on our way back, and I saw no problem in giving him one."

"Our way back?" Aria raised an eyebrow.

"He wandered off to find his rat again."

Lucina was surprised to see what lengths he'd go to find a rat, but he had been one of her father's closest friends, so she supposed she should have expected such resilience, even if it was over something as silly as a rat.

Aria shook her head. "That boy..."

Lucina allowed the woman to stew in her frustration for a bit. As soon as she stopped rubbing her temples, Lucina felt she might be calm enough for her to ask, "Did I miss anything from the list?"

A solemn expression on her face, Aria turned to face Lucina and said, "Miss Marth. I don't believe you are suited for this kind of task."

"Am I?" Taken aback, Lucina took a step away. "Then what else is there for me to do?"

"Give me time, I shall think of another thing I might require your assistance for."

The answer, while not as solid as Lucina would have liked, cut off any further discussion. Lucina did not want to be a bother, so instead, she headed for the door. Perhaps some time alone would bring Aria a new task for her to assist with.

* * *

Lucina watched Robin hack away at the small log. It was almost comical how little progress he made, no matter how many times he buried his hatchet into the wood.

Still, she would be an awful niece if she left him to suffer on his own.

"Would you like some help?" she said.

Robin left his axe stuck in the log, and he wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Yes," he said, stepping back. "I think I'd like that very much."

A few splinters flew out as she yanked the axe from its resting place. She tilted it, her eye roaming up to the blade and down to the hilt, noting how its weight felt in her hands.

Oh, how she missed the familiar weight of her sword at her side.

For now, this hatchet would have to do.

"How do you chop firewood?" Robin asked.

"Well, first you have to..." Lucina's lips tugged down. She hefted the hatchet in her hands, and she swung it once. She tried to think of a way to explain it, but no words came to mind.

Actions spoke louder than words, she decided. Perhaps if she did it, she could explain it after.

Lucina pulled the hatchet back and brought it down as hard as she could.

The head snapped off. Lucina's eye widened, and without thinking, she threw herself in front of Robin.

Luckily for her, the axe head flew the other way, disappearing in the yellow grass.

Lucina's eye fell to the splintered handle.

"I guess I won't be able to chop firewood for some time," Robin said.

"Well, that's the end of that, I suppose. At the very least you'll have more time to spend with your friends."

"I don't have any."

Shock showed on Lucina's face. She recalled all the fond memories she had of spending time with her Uncle Robin. Although they were barely more than a blur, the one thing she could clearly remember was how warm he'd been. Clearly, these children didn't know him if they would turn up their noses to such a man.

"Well, someone would have to be an idiot if they wouldn't want you as their friend," she said.

"Yeah?" The faintest traces of a smile slipped through Robin's face. "Would you be my friend?"

"I don't see why not."

"You mean it?"

"I do."

Robin's smile widened, and he jumped up. "Do you think you can help me find my rat, then?"

As much as Lucina wanted to say yes, she shook her head. "I've got an errand to run." She lifted the basket in her other hand to show him. "Though I believe I'll have the time to join you later."

"Alright then. Good luck!"

* * *

The sun had gotten a lot cooler in the hours that passed compared to the scorching heat of the afternoon.

Lucina wiped the sweat from her forehead with her free hand. Her other hand throbbed under the weight of the basket, now laden with a vibrant rainbow of fabrics. She felt quite proud of the assortment she'd picked out, and as she counted the items in her basket one more time, a grin slipped onto her face.

 _I can't remember the last time I went shopping,_ Lucina thought. Her smile softened as she found herself dwelling on the past. _It's such a calm and relaxing thing to do. And the people here do it all the time, without fear of running out with the fields tainted by the Fell Dragon's darkness. I could get used to this._

The crowds were another matter. All the bustling and jostling about horribly skewed her sense of direction. She couldn't ever be sure if her path was straight, with how people kept pushing her every which way, not to mention how it kept her busy trying to keep her items from tumbling out of the basket.

The laughter of children was a welcome respite from the flat and dull chatter of the crowd. She heard the pittering of their footsteps long before she saw them. Stepping back to let them by, Lucina watched with amusement as a small group of children rushed past her, their arms cast behind them without a care in the world.

Her eye trailed after them down the road, and that's when she noticed the blacksmith shop. As she drew closer, she saw a red glow coming through the open door.

She'd just reached the entrance when a shadow cast over her. Surprised, Lucina took a step back, her hand grasping at a sword she knew wasn't there.

Bald head. Scarred red skin over his swollen left eye. Lucina's gaze trailed up the hulking figure. The vendor from before looked back down at her. In his hands, a delicate statuette of a small dragon sparkled in the sun.

"Heart of gold huh?" Lucina muttered, watching as the vendor walked past her, his lips curved up in a delicate smile. At least she hadn't run away this time.

Her eye strayed to the door, then to the axe handle in her basket. She'd forgotten to return it to Robin, but now that she was here, perhaps she could do a favor for him and his mother.

She started to have second thoughts the moment she stepped inside, and a wave of heat crashed over. She swept her gaze over the stone walls, awash with orange from the setting sun and the furnace deeper inside, when her eye landed on the hooded man at the end of the room, standing behind a stone countertop.

"Another customer, hm?" the man said, his voice hoarse and scratchy. "Though this one seems a bit... hesitant. Come in, come in."

Against her better judgment, she stepped closer, letting the glow of the furnace wrap around her.

The man's smile widened. "Quite the fair-skinned lady, aren't you? A common trait. You could be from Ylisse up north, or all the way over from Rosanne... Where is it you hail from?"

"I don't believe I can answer that," Lucina replied.

"Ah. What have we here? A touchy subject?" The man hummed. "Most people believe such things should remain a mystery."

Lucina grimaced, thoroughly uncomfortable now. "I'll find business elsewhere."

"I'm afraid elsewhere is a place that does not exist," the man said, stopping her before she could turn back. "This is the only blacksmith in town. Unless you would like to conduct business another day? I can assure you, my demeanor remains unchanged, no matter the circumstance."

Her lips twisted, but she didn't move. On one hand, she did not want to remain around this strange man for much longer. On the other, Robin needed her help. If nothing else, this was the least she could do.

She reached into her basket, pulling out the splintered handle. "Did you make this hatchet?" she asked.

"If you've found it within the village borders, my hand has most certainly touched it. My memory seems to recall having repaired it some time in recent history, though it's hard to say when."

"Then do you think you could repair it? Properly, this time."

The man stroked his chin. "The quality of the work depends on the payment. If you were to pay me a generous sum, generous quality is all I have to offer. It's only fair, wouldn't you say?"

Lucina glanced inside the pouch Aria had given her, and she scowled when she found only seven gold coins.

"Could I pay you later?"

"I'm afraid not. There is no guarantee you'll pay enough otherwise."

"Then I shall return at another time."

"One," he said, stopping her again, "more thing. Before you leave." His finger trailed up to the badge on her breast, orange outlined in a gold design. "That badge is Ylissean in origin, no? Rather expensive, too. Where did you–"

The badge slammed down on the countertop before he could finish. He raised his eyes to meet Lucina's.

"Will this pay well enough?" she said.

"Certainly." His fingers wrapped around the badge, and it disappeared beneath the counter. "Now that I think about it, I believe I have a similar tool in storage. If you can afford a moment, I shall procure it for you."

"I'd appreciate it if you could be hasty about it."

The man tugged down on his hood, and his teeth glimmered in the low light. "But of course. It is my pleasure to be of assistance."

* * *

Aria's head rested in her hands. Across the table, Lucina shrunk back.

"Marth."

"Yes?"

"I didn't ask for nearly this much fabric."

"Well, the stall owner drove a fantastic bargain."

"And what did you think I was going to do with all this fabric? The insects will have eaten through the rest by the time I might really need them."

"Gods, I messed up again, didn't I?"

"I'm sure you had your reasons." A sigh passed through the woman's lips. "Why don't you take a break? Perhaps that will help clear your mind."

* * *

The metal blade buried itself into the stump with a deep thump. As Lucina tore the hatchet away, she bent down to gather the two halves of the log lying beside it and tossed them over to the growing pile of firewood. She wiped her arm over her forehead, and it came away slick with sweat.

 _This whole 'normal life' business has proved quite the challenge,_ she thought, reaching over for another log. _Inspecting produce, haggling prices. Back in the future, the marketplace had never been this complicated._

Then again, her friends would take trips to the marketplace for her, so she could be wrong.

The hatchet slammed into the stump again. Lucina watched as the two halves fell to the side, cleaved apart in a single stroke.

 _At least I have this. Though I'd admit, this is much different than doing it with Falchion._ She inspected the hatchet in her hands, and she let out a long, satisfied breath. _What a day._

"You're quite good at this."

Lucina lifted her gaze back to the house. Aria stood before it, leaning against the door, and a sly smile spread over her lips. Lucina followed her eyes to the hatchet she was holding.

"I've had plenty of practice," she said. "It helps me relieve stress."

Actually, she did training to relieve stress, but this wasn't a poor second choice.

"Don't stop," Aria said. "We could use some more firewood, after all." Her lips tugged down. "That said, you wouldn't have to do this if Robin hadn't run off. Have you seen him?"

"I have. He said he'd run off to search for his rat."

Aria closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "That sounds like him. Smart as my boy is, he can be rather stubborn too."

"Is that truly a bad thing?"

"Not always. Sometimes, though, you need to know when to let go."

Aria walked over to the pile of firewood and plucked a piece from it. Taking a moment to scan her eyes over it, she waved a hand over her shoulder as she headed back to the house.

"If you see Robin, tell him to return home. Supper will be ready soon."

Lucina's eye followed the woman, even after she had disappeared inside. A smile wormed its way to her lips. Her stomach growled at the mention of food. At the end of the day, the food from the past was far superior compared to the meager rations she'd had in the future.

"Supper sounds nice," she muttered.

Slowly, she brought her attention back to the log before her. As much as she wanted to eat, she had a task to finish. She rolled her shoulders back, testing the weight of the axe one more time, before she raised it over her head.

Then she stopped.

Faintly, she could hear the sound of wings flapping through the hot summer breeze. She hoped it was merely her imagination, but as the seconds ticked by, they only grew louder.

She craned her neck to follow the sound, and in the distance, she could make out the long, graceful shapes of an approaching herd of pegasi.

The pegasus knights had arrived, their steel lances glimmering orange in the sunset. And they were heading straight for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone was wondering, there was no update last week since my computer died last Tuesday. I wasn't busy watching anime or anything, my computer was just being uncooperative.
> 
> This is a very disconnected chapter, which is very different from what I usually do. I'm not really sure how it worked out in the end, but it was nice to write, if not a little difficult, what with how all over the place it is.
> 
> The next update will be out by May 26th. If it's not, then best case scenario, my computer probably died. Until then, I wish you all well, and stay safe!


	5. Chapter 5

Phila kept a hand over her face to keep the sun out of her eyes as she swept her gaze over the dry grasslands. To her left, she observed the pegasus knight rear her head back and take a long sniff. Phila did the same.

The desert air smelled arid and brittle, sharp like a rapier's tip, and Phila coughed. She glanced beside her, but the woman seemed unfazed by the scorched air, much to her irritation.

"Halt!"

Phila almost jumped at the sudden order. She yanked the reins back, and her pegasus whined in protest as she forced it to a stop.

The pegasus knight at her side groaned. "Captain, can we head back now? We've been on the hunt for a week already."

The woman at the front swerved her own pegasus to face them, tips of chocolate brown hair peeking out from under her helmet. "We may return once we have the traitor in custody, Helena," she said, her flat tone giving away no emotion. "Until then, if the wicked have no rest, then neither shall we."

Helena looked like she wanted to protest, but wisely kept her complaints to herself. "Very well."

Then, the pegasus knight captain turned her flat gaze to Phila. "Cadet Phila. Is there anything you can tell me about this place, just from observation?"

"Well..." Phila took a second to gather her thoughts, scanning over the landscape around her, from the yellow plains to the parched forest in the distance and the small village below her, bustling with life.

"This should be an empty patch of land, according to our maps," she said. "For some reason, this village isn't on them."

"And why might that be?"

"Either no one has ever left this village, or..."

"Or?"

"The residents want to keep it hidden, for one reason or another. Is that correct, Captain?"

"From what I've gathered, it is. A village of scoundrels and rapscallions." The pegasus knight captain narrowed her eyes.

Helena groaned. "Ugh. We won't have to round everyone up, will we?"

"Unfortunately not. As much as it pains me to admit, the three of us are hardly enough to bring these fiends to justice, and by the time I have a suitable force mobilized, there's no guarantee they will stay put. Our task here is to capture the traitor. Any more would be... unnecessary."

From the edge of her vision, something caught Phila's eye. "Captain?"

"Is there something you wish to say?"

"What did you say the traitor looked like?"

"Witnesses described her as a small woman with blue hair, possibly a traitor from the royal bloodline itself. Why do you need to know?"

Phila raised her lance and pointed to a tiny blue figure weaving through the tall grass, growing smaller by the second. "That wouldn't happen to be her, would it?" she said.

The pegasus knight captain followed the tip of her lance. She peered out in the distance for a minute, before she said, "I do believe it is."

* * *

Lucina's father had never run from a fight. In all the awe-inspiring and incredible tales she'd heard about him, not once had he ever turned tail and fled. Even when there was no hope to be had, he was always there at the front lines, his sword cutting his foes down. His father's friends claimed his boundless courage inspired people to beat the insurmountable odds.

As ashamed as she was to admit it, the moment she heard those wings flap, she dropped everything and ran.

It was the only sensible thing to do, she tried to tell herself. Battling the pegasus knights would be the last thing on any sane person's mind.

Cynthia's mother had been notorious as a monster on the battlefield. She had witnessed the woman wade thigh-deep into Risen bile, cutting swathes into the undead without a second of hesitation, writing ballads of a purple-stained heroine with a quill of silver wherever she went, and although she had never met her, she'd heard stories of the red-haired woman who was the epitome of grace carved into a vessel built for battle.

Even if their predecessors only held a fraction of their finesse, Lucina held no false hope that she could last even a second against them.

Lucina knew what her father would do. He would turn and stand his ground. Sword in hand, he would calm down the pegasus knights, and with his endless charisma, he would convince them they had nothing to fear, and that he was innocent. Relieved smiles would be shared, and they would leave her father with a warning, retreating to report to Aunt Emmeryn that the culprit had disappeared, and history would continue as normal.

She wasn't willing to take that chance, not with her father's future on the line.

As she sprinted over the dry grass, her gaze honed in on the forest just ahead. If she managed to slip past, the tangled growth and thick canopy would shield her from aerial attacks. The few hundred yards of the open field appeared daunting, but once she crossed it, she would be safe. Goal set, all Lucina had to do was reach it. Simple enough.

Years of battle-hardened instinct screamed of an incoming attack. Lucina dodged to the left, just as a streak of yellow ripped through the side of her coat.

In her place only moments before, a javelin embedded itself into the dirt. Lucina's feet threatened to trip her for the sudden stop. She barely managed to steer herself around it, but another javelin was already on its way.

Lucina threw herself to the side again. She felt the rush of air as the javelin tore over her, felt the cloud of dirt thrown up by the impact trickle down her back.

Someone cursed. Lucina was back on her feet much faster this time. As she pulled herself back together, she looked over her shoulder. The pointed end of a third javelin stared her down, growing closer by the second.

Lucina's legs pulled her forward, but something screamed for her to hold back. She lurched instead. The javelin flew past her stomach, straight through where she would have been a second later.

Lucina didn't wait for the pegasus knights to try their luck again. By the time they reached for another volley, Lucina took off for the forest again. She hadn't even taken five steps before the javelins came for her once more.

The first sailed over her head. Lucina twisted herself away to avoid hitting the haft, but a second forced her back. A third javelin planted itself into the dust to her other side before she could even consider it.

Lucina stumbled back. She looked around her, and she realized she was surrounded. Pegasus knights watched her from every side.

A shadow blocked out the sun. Lucina spun around. Wings spread wide, the pegasus knight reared up, and she thrust forward. Her lance swung down, aimed straight for Lucina's arm. She leaped to the side.

The cloak wrapped around her neck tightened, throwing her to the ground. Lucina gasped for breath, helpless to watch as the steel blade swept over her. She lifted her eyes.

Her cloak was pinned beneath the third javelin, the one she thought had missed. Desperately, she tugged at her cloak, but it refused to budge.

The first pegasus knight hadn't even left her sight before the second descended. Lucina gazed up at her attacker. Her eyes were dead set on her, so sure she couldn't move away.

At the last second, Lucina rolled away. The pegasus knight's steel lance stabbed down, carving a line into the dirt, then through Lucina's cloak, missing her hand by inches.

The force wrapped around her neck disappeared. Lucina caught a glimpse of the pegasus knight again, her eyes widening in surprise. The pegasus whined as its rider forced it to turn, but Lucina had already pushed herself off the ground. Her feet slipped out from under her. Lucina caught herself before she fell, and forced herself into a sprint.

In front of her, she saw the first pegasus knight give ground. The temptation to rush forward presented itself, but there was something strange about the way she swung her lance around.

 _She's signalling the others,_ Lucina realized.

It was then she noticed the pegasus knight charging in from her left. Lucina hurled herself back just as the pegasus knight sped past her, watching as the steel lance slashed through where she'd been seconds ago.

The first pegasus knight signaled again. She heard the telltale flap of wings, behind her this time. Lucina jumped away, and she felt the force of another missed stab breeze over her back.

As the pegasus knights reared back for another attack, again she found herself wishing for a weapon at her side. Unarmed and tired, Lucina saw no way to escape. And with the forest barely within reach, it seemed almost cruel. Unless...

An idea dawned on her. One her father would have seen from a mile away. Her eyes fell to the first pegasus knight, her lance raised in the air, then to the forest just behind her.

The pegasus knight's lance swung down. The pegasus knights to Lucina's sides lunged. Lucina twisted away, slipping past them as they crossed over her. Then she charged.

The most reaction she caught on the first pegasus knight's face was a raised eyebrow. Her pegasus lowered to meet her, its wings folding back. Her silver lance gleamed dangerously, almost as if to warn her.

Lucina's feet carried her forward. The pegasus knight raised her lance. Lucina leaned to the left. The silver lance followed her, before it sprung forth.

At the last second, Lucina turned and threw herself beneath the pegasus's hooves. It gave a startled cry, flaring its wings in fright. The pegasus knight shouted and pulled at the reins, but by the time she brought it back under control, Lucina was already behind her, disappearing into the trees.

Twigs snapped and leaves crunched as she stumbled through the foliage. Her foot caught on a root, and she nearly tripped. Blind desperation was what caused her to grab onto a nearby branch. It snapped under her weight, but by then, she was already pressing onward.

Ferns slapped against her face, and the encroaching darkness hid a few more protrusions from her sight. Several times, she almost lost her balance, each fall spiking her already furious heart rate. All that mattered was putting as much distance between her and those pegasus knights.

At last, when her lungs could take no more, and her heart screamed for rest, Lucina let herself fall limp against the sturdy trunk of a tree. As she took in great gulps of air, her limbs burning now that the adrenaline had drained away, Lucina eyed her torn cloak. She traced a finger over the fringed edge, her expression mournful. Though it may have been a piece of cloth, it was a piece of cloth that had seen her through struggles, both present, and future. It hadn't been necessary to discard, not like her badge, and yet it had given its life for her escape.

Her eyes wandered to the edge of the forest. To her relief, the two pegasus knights didn't dare enter, not with all the trees in the way. Her cloak's sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

Had it?

 _Wait. Two pegasus knights?_ Lucina's heart stopped. _Where did the third–_

A crash snapped her from her thoughts. Lucina spun around, eyes wide. Leaves fell to the ground, shredded into bits, and a white blur descended through the treetops.

Lucina barely had time to cry out before a silver lance embedded itself into her leg. Her hands fell to the shaft. Her fingers wrapped around it. Lucina didn't even have the chance to tug on it before the pegasus knight slammed a leg into her chest.

Lucina threw out her arms, but her weight dragged her down. The back of her head exploded in pain. Her vision swam.

And darkness claimed her.

* * *

Robin's mother always told him that, with a mind as brilliant as his, no corner of the world would remain unknown to him. That no mystery would remain unsolved to him.

No mystery except that of his father.

No matter how much he tried to figure it out, he could not figure anything about the man. He'd asked his mother if he'd died in a battle, or if he was a traveling merchant off to sell his wares, but any answers he received from her led only to more questions. The other townsfolk had never even heard of the man, so they were no help either.

All he knew so far was that, firstly, his father had white hair because that's how babies worked, wasn't it? And secondly, there was something that kept his father away from home.

 _I bet father would be more than happy to help me find my rat,_ Robin thought as he scoured the bushes.

Trees loomed overhead, casting deep shadows over the forest floor. Peeking through the leaves he could still see his home in the distance, so tiny it could probably fit in his hand. All around him, he could hear the crickets warm up as they prepared to sing.

Robin tuned them out. He was a boy on a mission, and no pretty insects would steer him from his path.

Cupping his mouth, Robin turned to the sky and yelled, "Come out, come out wherever you are!"

Somewhere to his left, a few leaves rustled. Robin's head snapped onto it. Was that his rat he heard?

The wooden snap that followed told him it wasn't. His rat was hardly heavy enough to break twigs. Maybe it was some kind of predator?

Just to be safe, Robin turned the other way, and he pushed past a low-hanging branch, pressing on with his search.

"Mister Scurries," he called again, "Where are you?"

Robin ducked under another branch, only to run face-first into a wall of purple. He looked up. Two red eyes stared back.

For a second, he was afraid.

"Child. What business do you have here?"

Hearing his voice, though, Robin realized that this was a person, not the monster under his bed, and his fear fell back.

"Oh! I'm searching for my rat," Robin said, stepping back. "His name is Mister Scurries. Have you seen him?"

Now that he was not so close, Robin took a moment to look at the man. The first thing he noticed was that the robes draped over his thin, stick-like body were the same color as his mother's tablecloth. It even had those strange, sleeve-like appendages on the sides, just like his mother's tablecloth which, now that he thought about it, might have been actual sleeves. His face was narrow like an arrowhead, and his smile curled in all the strangest places that made Robin feel like he was wearing another skin.

"Child?" Another man appeared behind the first, wearing the same robes like they were twins. He licked his lips, before he said, "Shall I take it upon myself to... take care of this one, milord?"

"Lay a hand on him and I'll take care of you!" The man's smile warped in an instant. The change was so sudden, Robin almost jumped.

When he turned back to Robin, the smile was back, like nothing ever happened. "Now tell me, what is this rat we're hunting for look like? Perhaps I can be of assistance?"

"Really?" Robin's face lit up in excitement. He was so lucky to have met such a nice man! If he helped him look for his rat, there wasn't anything to worry about. "Well, he's very long like a ferret, but he's different because he's much cuter than a ferret. He's also very thin because he's always hungry. You wouldn't have happened to see any berry bushes close by, have you? Because he might be there."

"A pity," the man said, and he cupped his chin. "I've not seen any berry bushes. I do, however, have an inkling where your 'rat' may be hiding."

"Where?"

The man looked back at his twin. For some reason, he chuckled. Robin had the sinking feeling that he didn't really know where his rat was, and that something was wrong. But what?

"Follow us, child. Follow us, and witness something far beyond anything a pathetic rat could do."

Validar's cloak billowed behind him as he stepped past his son. Leaves crunched underfoot like a crashing river, the Grimleal melting out of the shadows one by one.

His hand glowed purple, and as he set his eyes on the small town visible just beyond the trees, for the first time in months, he smiled.

_Rat hunting indeed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally converging. Everything I've done so far, tied together with one big action scene.
> 
> This is one of those things I really thought I was going to have to delay a week. Stuff just didn't string together right, and this chapter fought me word for word. If I've made any mistakes, feel free to point them out because I probably missed a few.
> 
> Also, I'm not sure how I feel about the action here. With something like Brotherhood of Smash, obviously I have a ton more toys to play with. I could have characters throw around entire cities and no one would complain, but with the more simplistic action here, I sort of feel a little underwhelmed. Any feedback is welcome.
> 
> Next chapter will hopefully be ready by next Tuesday. It depends on it it will be more cooperative than this one. Until then, I wish you all well, and stay safe!


	6. Chapter 6

Stood atop a hill, Validar watched the village burn. A symphony of screams and wailing reached his ears, and a breeze carried the scent of smoke over the dry field. He hummed, a pleased smile tugging at his lips.

As he had expected, his Plegian forces were swift to sweep through the village, exterminating all who stood in their path. What little resistance the band of smugglers, convicts, and swindlers could offer was nothing compared to the might of his soldiers, and when combined with his flawless strategy? Well, safe to say, they stood no chance.

Any second now, his men would return, reporting that they'd eradicated the last survivors. Not a single man, woman, or child was to be left alive, not after all the trouble they'd caused him by hiding her in their midst. It was only fair.

"Mother! Mother, help me!"

And speak of the devil. Validar's lips peeled back, revealing just a bit of the grin he held within. He heard a thud behind him, then a hiss. He didn't need to turn around to know she was behind him.

He turned anyway, if only so she could see his victorious smile. Aria knelt before him, her hands tied behind her, her dark hair damp with sweat, her clothes riddled with gashes and stained with red as she took in one ragged breath after another. She looked like a disobedient servant whipped into submission.

Her brown eyes held none of the same weariness. They practically simmered, boiling water beneath a lid, conveying her contempt far better than any words ever could. Even on her knees, she was ever the tireless woman he had known her as.

Validar lifted his gaze from her, and his eyes fell on the guard behind her.

"You may leave us alone," Validar commanded.

"As you command."

Validar noted the unease set on the man's jaw, and his eyes narrowed. As he turned to leave, Validar committed the shape of his face, the way he spurred his legs into action, the way his eyes flickered back to him, all to memory. His unease conveyed weak loyalty, something that would have to be rooted out one way or another.

As the guard disappeared, Validar kept his eyes fixed on the horizon. Not once did he stop to acknowledge the woman in front of him, even as he strode past her. Aria, on the other hand, could never seem to keep her eyes off him, as if she aimed to blast him full of dark magic.

The foolish woman.

"The sunset," he said, deciding he'd let the silence hang for too long. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"I'm sure it's not as beautiful as you believe it to be," Aria snapped.

Validar chuckled. "Oh, I doubt that. You are simply blind to the true scale of its greatness."

"It's not that. It might be every bit as incredible as you claim it to be. Only your presence drains any beauty in that, and I'd prefer if I didn't have to stare at an ugly shriveled husk in my last moments."

The remark passed him by without so much a twitch. Why would it? They were but the desperate words of someone clinging onto what little life remained.

"How galling," Validar said. "To think you used to have such a way with words. Perhaps then your dying breath would not be such a waste."

The grass crunched underfoot as he finally faced her. Her gaze was turned the other way, her face glowing in the soft light of the evening.

"Your magic abilities have diminished as well. Look at you, battered and bruised before your better. A remnant of the powerful woman I was proud to have by my side all those years ago." He raised his hand to the back of her head, a sickly purple hue emanating from within. "How far the mighty have fallen indeed. Motherhood has made you weak."

"A remnant I may be, but at least I have the one thing you're after."

Aria's words made him pause. "Which is?" Validar asked, though he knew what she would say.

"My son."

"You had him. You stole him. I've reclaimed what is mine."

"Have you?" Aria laughed dryly. Validar's eyes narrowed. He should have ended this farce before it even had a chance to begin. Yet perhaps the ramblings of the woman before him would prove entertaining.

The glint in her eyes said she was far from done. "I've spent every day of his life with him. Taking care of him, feeding him."

"Unimportant details, the weakness of man."

"That may be, but if you kill me, the only thing he'll learn is to despise you."

"The vessel need not be willing for the ritual to be successful."

"Robin is but a child. His body is frail, his magical prowess next to none. Would you dare disrespect your lord with such a weak body?"

Validar stepped closer and clenched his fist, the dark magic gathered between his fingertips begging for release. "The only redeeming quality of mortal men is that they strengthen with age. I'd have thought such a rudimentary fact would not have slipped your mind, but you are far beyond the woman worthy of your honor."

All it would take would be for him to raise his hand and unleash it. The dark energy would sear through her body, straight through flesh, leaving dark, purple trails behind. A terrified expression frozen on her face, finally broken under sheer force.

"Honor is the last thing I'd call it," Aria spat. "Robin may grow stronger in body, but he will also grow stronger in mind. As he matures, that mind will grow to stand against you, perhaps even strong enough to stand against the Fell Dragon."

"Then your efforts shall be for naught. I–"

"You'll what, brainwash him?" Even bound as she was, Aria managed to twist her body to face him, a defiant snarl marring her beautiful face. "I've stood at your right hand before. I know you haven't finished that spell, and I know it is impossible to cast without decimating the target's mind. And you wouldn't want that, would you? No, nothing less than perfection for that damned lizard."

A face came to mind. A girl. Dark skin, white hair. Her lips pulled up in an utterly pitiful look of affection.

He knelt, meeting Aria's burning gaze at an even level. His hand reached up to cup her face, a radiant shade of pink in the remaining sunlight. She was too tired to pull away.

"My everlasting flame," he cooed. "You're such a... a perceptive, cunning, beautiful..."

A burst of dark magic tore from his hands, gushing out in a torrent of blistering heat.

"Idiot."

The body hit the grass with a thud. Validar stood over it, smoke trailing from his hand, his face twisted into a smile. Reaching down, he blasted it with a second burst of magic, then a third, until all that remained could barely be called human.

Strangely enough, staring down at what could only be described as ash, Validar reflected that it hadn't been as satisfying as he'd thought.

 _Still,_ he thought as he turned his back to the flames in the distance, _she has a point. That whelp was a lucky exception. It was a miracle she got through almost completely unscathed._

As he made his way back to the Plegians waiting for him below, Validar heard the boy's cries for his mother grow louder. His voice was all so grating on his ears, and when the boy froze the second he saw him, Validar let a sneer show on his face.

_Strong willed, huh? He calls for his mother like any other child. I suppose I'll have to invest a little more in this one._

"Come, boy," he said. "Let's head home."

* * *

_"Did you see that? Did you see that? I saved you, Uncle Robin!"_

_"That you did, Luci."_

_Lucina paused, an elixir bottle held in her hands, and her face fell into an expression with all the seriousness a six-year-old girl could muster. "What did I save you from, anyway?" she asked._

_Robin peeked at her from around the pile of weapons in his arms. "Well, you saved me from having to clean elixir off the floor, for one."_

_"Oh!" Lucina's face brightened. "Then... can I have something too? Cause whenever the hero saves the princess, he always gets something back to show her 'preciation."_

_"Then what do you want, my little knight in shining armor?" Robin said. "Would you like some of the dragon's gold? Or maybe a kiss?"_

_Lucina pouted. "No! I want a caramel."_

_"A caramel?" Uncle Robin craned his head over the towering metal mass. "Well, as luck would have it, I have some in my pocket."_

_"Then give it!" After a moment's pause, she added, "Please?"_

_"Not when my hands are full."_

_"But when you put those down?"_

_"Then I'll give it to you."_

_Lucina's lips tugged up into a grin. "Okay then! Let's go!"_

_She spun on her heel and started down the hall. Behind her, Uncle Robin cleared his throat, and when she stopped to look at him, he smiled._

_"Luci. I'm headed the other way."_

_"Oh. Right!"_

_Lucina sprinted after Uncle Robin, her elixir bottle leading the way. With Robin in tow, she ran through the halls of Ylisstol Castle, turning corners and ducking through confused maids and butlers until she found herself running out of steam._

_"Uncle... huff... Robin?" she said, stopping to catch her breath. "Where are we going? This... huff... isn't where we keep all the swords."_

_"You're right," he replied. "That's because these are special weapons that need to go somewhere else."_

_Shifting the weight in his arms, he turned so that she could look at one of the weapons: a steel lance. Or, at least it looked like a steel lance, but when Lucina looked closer, she noticed the tip was covered in a faint yellow glow._

_"Wow! That's... huff... so cool!" she said._

_"Isn't it?" Robin grinned, and he lifted the pile of weapons back up. "Would you like to stop for a bit?"_

_"No! I can... huff... I can keep going!"_

_"Luci, you shouldn't have to push yourself, especially not for something as trivial as this. Please, sit down."_

_"But–"_

_"No buts. Sit."_

_Lucina wanted to argue further. Frustration tickled her lips, but with a huff, she let it go. Lucina plopped herself down at the foot of a great big tree._

_And that's when she noticed that there was a great big tree behind her._

_"Hey! When did this tree appear?"_

_Laughter bubbled behind Uncle Robin's smile. "It's been here before you were born. Before your father was born, even."_

_"Really? It must be super old, then!"_

_"It is." Uncle Robin's eyes trailed up the tree, from the roots to the branches at the top reaching for the sky. "Your father claims that your Aunt Emmeryn often sat beneath this very tree whenever she was troubled."_

_"Wow!" Lucina patted down the grass around the tree, an expression of awe on her face as if the ground had turned to gold. When she looked back up at Robin, her eyes sparkled. "Uncle Robin? What was Aunt Emmeryn like? Father has told me a lot, but I want to hear what you know of her as well."_

_"I see." Uncle Robin laughed, this time sounding a little more nervous. "Well, I didn't know her for long, so I can't say much." When he noticed Lucina's face fall, he quickly added, "That's not to say I know nothing about her!"_

_"What can you tell me, then?" Lucina asked._

_"If there was one thing I could say about her, your Aunt Emmeryn was loved by her people. Everyone in Ylisse knew of her boundless patience and kindness. No matter how much someone wronged her, she always found it in herself to forgive."_

_"Aw. That's boring."_

_"I'd disagree." At Lucina's confused expression, he said, "What would you do if someone hit you in the face?"_

_"I'd punch them back!" Lucina said proudly._

_"Then could you imagine not being able to punch them back, no matter how hard you wanted to? That's what Emmeryn had to do every time anyone did anything bad to her."_

_"What? Why?"_

_Robin knelt down to meet Lucina, eye to eye. "Because as much as people love her now, when Emmeryn started her rule, the kingdom of Ylisse was falling apart. She needed to prove to her people that she was strong, or we would have no more castle. So when people started trying to attack her, she could either punch back, or she could refuse to, no matter how much people tried to get her to punch back."_

_Lucina frowned. "Wouldn't it be easier to just punch back?"_

_"It would. Which was why she didn't."_

_Lucina's eyes widened, and realization began to set in. She opened her mouth to speak when, to her left, Lucina heard something scratch against the stone._

_She blinked, and suddenly, she realized how blurry everything was. Lucina tried to stand, but all she felt was air beneath her feet. In her ears, the scratching disappeared, replaced by a faint ringing._

_She blinked again. And the world flooded back to her._

* * *

The world smelled like a drenched rag. As what little light in the room filtered in through her bleary eyes, the back of her head pulsed painfully. Lucina reached up to rub the back of her head, combing her fingers through strands of her straight blue hair until the pain began to fade.

Then everything came rushing back to her.

Lucina jerked back, eyes wide, only for her head to slam into the stone wall behind her. The pain at the back of her head surged, and her hands found their way around her skull as she groaned.

She slid back against the wall, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. The last thing she remembered was having her face slammed into the dirt. As she tried to get the ringing in her head to fade, she noted with a small degree of disappointment that this was the second time she'd fallen unconscious.

 _I hope this doesn't become a running theme,_ she thought. _How can I save my father if I spend half my time lying dazed in a gutter?_

Aside from the earth-shattering headache she was currently nursing and the nasty gash in her leg, the pegasus knights seemed to have left her unharmed. From the bandage wrapped around her thigh, someone at least had the courtesy of tending to her wounds, thank Naga for the small mercies. Without a nice lady by her side to tell her where she was, though, she was a little more helpless than she'd like to admit.

Her stomach growled, and she was reminded of the supper she never had.

Staving off her growing irritation, Lucina peered through the iron bars cut into her cell door, just in time to catch a familiar flash of red.

 _Aunt Cordelia?_ That was her first thought, one that she shook off a second later. If Robin was but a child, that meant that Aunt Cordelia was too, and she would at least hope a child would have no place in such a filthy place.

Curious, Lucina made her way over to the door. Her fingers grasped the bars, and she peeked outside. Again, she heard the faint scratching sound, the same sound that had awoken her, and as she glanced down the hall, she found the source to be a straw broom sweeping over the floor. Hunched over it was a man, his flaming red hair standing out against the ratty clothes on his back.

 _He must be a servant,_ Lucina surmised. _He probably knows nothing of value, so trying to pry answers from him won't be worth my time._ She paused. _Still, it couldn't hurt to ask where am I, could it?_

Pulling herself up to stand a little straighter, Lucina cleared her throat. "Excuse me, sir. Do you know where we are?"

"You're in Ylisstol Castle," the servant replied, not even bothering to turn around. "The dungeons, if you want to be a bit more precise."

"The dungeon?" Lucina's lips pulled down, and her eyes fell to the floor, covered in dirt and grime. "No, that can't be right. Ylisstol Castle doesn't have a dungeon."

That got the man to stop. Turning to look at her over his shoulder, he said, "Does it now?"

Lucina winced. "I mean, I've never heard of a dungeon in Ylisstol Castle. Surely you must be mistaken."

"Not many people know about this place, so you wouldn't be the first to deny it." The man sighed. "These cells don't see much recent use, anyway. Exalt Alabaster was not a man to let an issue stand idle, and he was quick to sort through his work. Either he found you innocent within a day and set you free, or he didn't, in which case..." The man drew his thumb over his neck, and Lucina shivered at the implication.

"Whatever his verdict may be, no one ever spent more than a day in here, so there were many who gave this place much mind." Then the man's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure you don't need me to tell you this, but he is no longer with us. Your fate is not in his hands, but the hands of his daughter."

"Well, that's a relief," Lucina muttered.

She must not have been quiet enough, for the man lifted his head in her direction. "And what makes you say that?"

"From what you tell me, this 'Exalt Alabaster' is hardly a sound judge. His daughter will be more forgiving, I hope."

"Yes, yes." The man's mouth stretched into a thin line. "But if you're wrong–if the girl is anything like her father–I suppose you won't live long enough after that to worry about it, would you?"

Lucina's stomach lurched, horrified at the thought. Her Aunt Emmeryn, sentencing her to death? That was absurd!

"No, she's not like that!" When his suspicious glare landed on her, she winced again. "At least, that's what I hear."

The man stared at her long and hard. Every second she spent under his blazing red eyes, she could feel another bead of sweat break out, until finally, he broke eye contact with the spin of his heel.

"I wouldn't count on it," he said.

And with that, he strode out of sight, his shoes clicking loudly against the stone floor. As Lucina watched his shadow vanish, her legs gave out, and she slid against the door. Her hands flew to her neck, and she suddenly felt a little less secure about its place on her shoulders.

 _That servant is wrong,_ she told herself. _Aunt Em would never order an execution. She has to prove her strength to keep Ylisse together. She won't punch back. Right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was actually really busy last week, and I couldn't find anywhere to fit writing in my schedule. Also, I just didn't feel like doing it, so there's that. In the end, I did manage to get something out, so I'm happy with that.
> 
> I'm surprised, I managed to hold out on the flashbacks for this long. The original story was littered with them, which probably did a lot more harm than help. It's not as if there was anywhere to fit them aside from here.
> 
> The beginning of next week is looking a little hectic, so I might not be able to update next Tuesday as well. Still, I can dream, can't I? Until then, I wish you all well, and stay safe!


	7. Chapter 7

Knelt before Emmeryn, her arms bound by chains behind her back, Lucina was suddenly a lot less sure. There was nothing in her face, from her narrowed eyes looking down upon her from the Exalt's throne to her mouth set in a flat line, that looked forgiving.

For a moment, Lucina feared her father might have been mistaken. But surely that couldn't have been the case; Emmeryn was his sister, was she not?

"What is your name, girl?"

A raspy voice echoed over the vast chamber, snapping her out of her thoughts. Lucina glanced over at the speaker, a shriveled-looking man with a scowl as smooth as gravel and eyes that could never seem to stay in one place, and it was then that she noticed how empty the room was.

Aside from her and Emmeryn, who she assumed was her advisor, the two guards stationed beside her, the pegasus knight captain, and the blond-haired man standing off to the side, no one else was there. Lucina had never been to a sentencing before. With the Fell Dragon hanging overhead, there were bigger things to worry about.

Surely, though, they couldn't have been this small, this lonely? Just two people staring each other down as the banners bearing the Brand of the Exalt billowed overhead, staring down at them like eyes, waiting in silence for the fate of one to be decided.

One of her guards kicked her side. Hard. Lucina hissed, and she glared up at him.

"Answer the question, if you are able," Emmeryn's advisor said again.

Lucina's eyes fell to the floor. "Marth. You may call me Marth."

"She's got the hair down, I'd say," the blond man mumbled. No one paid him any heed.

"Marth. You come before our most gracious Exalt accused of betrayal to the Halidom of Ylisse and the murder of former Exalt Alabaster. Do you dispute these claims?"

Betrayal? A frown creased Lucina's brow as she wracked her mind, before she remembered that murdering the former Exalt probably counted as betrayal.

"I do. Whoever you're looking for, it's not me."

"Evidence seems to point to the opposite." Even as she faced away, she could hear the sneer in his voice. "Captain Madeline has received reports of you running the Exalt through in Northern Plegia, before you abandoned the rest of your comrades only minutes later." The advisor turned to Emmeryn. "What does her Grace think of it?"

Lucina finally lifted her gaze off the floor to look at Emmeryn. This time, Emmeryn looked away. Lucina held her breath. She could feel the gaze of everyone else on the room fixed on her, but she held her gaze to Emmeryn. What would she say? She wouldn't order her execution.

She couldn't.

"Execution," Emmeryn whispered. "Execute her for her crimes against the halidom."

* * *

_Execute her. Execute her. Execute her._

The words echoed in Emmeryn's ears, even long after they'd left her mouth. Some of the literature Tomas assigned to her spoke of characters "haunted by the ghosts of their past". She'd never understood it before, but perhaps this was what it was like?

Sighing, Emmeryn leaned back and let the rough bark of the tree behind her press into her skin as she let her gaze roam to the leaves above. This... all of this–being the Exalt, sentencing a woman to her death, it all felt so wrong. Her father should've been the one to make that decision. Her father should have been here with her, here to tell her what to do, which decisions were the right ones and which were the wrong ones. He should be sitting by her side, an arm draped over her shoulder, quietly assuring her that she wouldn't bring the halidom to ruin.

But he was dead.

All she could do was make sure his killer was brought to justice.

_It doesn't matter what I think of it,_ she thought. _As long as that woman still lives, Chrom and Lissa would never be safe. And with father gone, I can't let anything happen to them. So this is the best course of action. Isn't it?_

"Your Grace. Is there anything I may assist you with?"

Emmeryn glanced up. The pegasus knight captain, Captain Madeline, she reminded herself, stared down at her, her face as flat as it always was, yet a tinge of worry lay beneath her voice.

"I... I'm fine," Emmeryn said, forcing herself to look away.

"Truly?"

"Yes."

Captain Madeline tilted her head. "Do you not have somewhere to be? I saw you vacate the audience chamber in quite the hurry, and I became quite concerned when no one could seem to find you after."

"I did not get much sleep last night," Emmeryn replied. "I wanted to find somewhere to rest."

"Why did you not go to your bedroom, then?"

"I didn't want anyone to bother me."

"Ah." Captain Madeline's lips twisted into a frown. "If I may speak out of line, I'd like you to tell someone before you vanish like that."

"Did I worry people that much?"

Captain Madeline hummed, raising her eyes to the sky, before she said, "It's not that. You are the Exalt now, whether you like it or otherwise. Everyone will be looking to you for strength, and as our Exalt, you need to be there for your people."

Emmeryn squeezed her eyes shut, her lips pulling into a scowl away from the pegasus knight captain. "Please. I want to be left alone."

"I shall see to it that you are undisturbed." When she noticed Emmeryn giving her a sideways look, her eyes widened. "Oh. You want me to leave you alone?" Captain Madeline saluted her. "Very well. I leave you to your dilly-dallying."

Emmeryn heard the grass rustle as she turned to leave, took a step back, then stopped.

"Your Grace!" Tomas said, stepping into view. "There you are! I've been..." His eyes narrowed as soon as he caught sight of the pegasus knight captain. "What are you doing here?"

"Her Grace wishes to be left alone."

"I don't recall asking for your input. And take that helmet off. It is rude to keep it on in the presence of her Grace."

"I don't mind–" Emmeryn began, but Captain Madeline was already tearing off her helmet, spilling her chocolate locks over her shoulders.

"Happy?" she said.

Tomas ignored her, instead fixing his gaze on Emmeryn. "Your Grace, we have much to discuss. What do you say for a cup of tea?"

"You wished to be alone, did you not?" Captain Madeline said, turning to Emmeryn. "I will escort him away, should you command it."

"Who are you to speak for her Grace?"

With each word, Emmeryn shrunk further back against the tree. The both of them were so loud, so demanding, rattling around her already jumbled head. The two of them were loud. Her thoughts were louder.

But Tomas, at least, was a familiar face, wasn't he?

"Tea..." She swallowed. "I'd like tea."

Tomas gave Captain Madeline a smug look, but she didn't seem fazed in the slightest. "Servant!" he said, and he turned to the man slipping in through the door. "Fetch me two cups and a pot of tea."

"Very well." The servant bowed in his direction, before he spun around and disappeared back inside.

"Now, there was something I noticed during the sentencing, something I thought you might want to talk about."

"Really?" Emmeryn looked up. For a moment, she allowed a flicker of hope to take root in her chest, a flicker that withered and died the second she saw the proud smile on his face.

"I must say, you maintained excellent form through it all, just like I always knew you would."

"Was that what it was?"

"Of course! You were the perfect picture of grace, as anyone would expect from the Exalt."

"Oh. Thank you."

"Would you think this calls for celebration?" Tomas said, his wrinkled face twisting into a grin. "That traitor no longer possesses a threat to you. You've not even spent a week on the throne, and your wisdom has already rid the halidom of a potential menace. I say we discuss the halidom's affairs over tea."

"I don't think–"

"Or, if you don't prefer tea, I can call for the bakery to whip up a cake."

"Hierophant, you are overstepping your bounds."

"Not as much as you've been overstepping yours," Tomas hissed.

"Am I, now?" Captain Madeline raised an eyebrow. "You act amicably enough to her Grace, as if you were the chamberlain herself."

"Maybe I am."

"I was not aware the chamberlain had relinquished her position to you."

"She does not need to, not if–" Tomas cut himself off with a long exhale. "Your Grace, shall we take our discussion elsewhere?"

"I should hope not. Can you not see how disturbed she is?" Her armor rustled as Captain Madeline knelt beside Emmeryn, and her hand pressed down on her shoulder. "What is the problem?"

"Nothing."

"It hardly seems to be nothing."

"I said it's nothing," Emmeryn said, firmer this time.

The pegasus knight captain opened her mouth, but whatever she was about to say, Emmeryn wouldn't hear it. She brushed off her hand as she rose to her feet. Tomas called her name as she turned and ran, and she almost stopped. For a moment, she considered going back. The red-haired servant that emerged from the door, a teapot atop a tray in hand, shook the thought from her head, and she pushed past him before he could move to stop her.

There were so many decisions to make, and the world wouldn't wait for her to pick one. If this was how being the Exalt would go, she didn't want it. She wanted her father back.

She couldn't be strong. Not without her father.

* * *

Chrom knew something was wrong when Lissa suddenly stopped, looking very confused. If he was being honest, he was confused too.

One second, they were running through the halls playing 'Knights and Bandits', the next, they were standing in front of an open door, leading downstairs into the darkness.

"What is this place?" he said, looking over every inch of it. He glanced back at Lissa, but she didn't have any answers for him, blinking up at him innocently.

He had passed this door a million times before, on his way to watch the knights in the courtyard, but never had he thought about what lay beyond it. To have it open was so exciting.

This castle was his home. He wanted to know where all the doors lead, where all the knights went. It was nice to know someone cared, Nan had always told him, and he cared enough to see what could be hiding in the dark.

"We should go down there!" he said, and he made to step forward.

A tug on his sleeve stopped him. He looked down, and he found Lissa hiding behind him.

"Don't wanna," she said.

Chrom huffed. "Are you scared?"

Lissa nodded.

"Then I'll protect you!" He tried to step forward again, but she pulled him back.

"Nan says... don't go."

"Why not?"

"Monsters."

Chrom's smile wavered. She had him there. If it wasn't Emmeryn scaring out the monsters for them, it was Nan, and if it wasn't either of them, Father would do it.

Then, a thought popped into his head. "Then I'll scare them away before they can get to you!" he said, grinning.

Before she could stop him, he'd already cupped his hands around his mouth, took a deep breath, and yelled: "I'm coming down now! I hope no monsters come out to get me!"

His voice echoed back to him, and for a moment, he was disappointed that was all there was. Just as he was starting to think there was nothing but darkness there, he heard something reply.

"Who's there?" The voice was small, like it was super far away, so the stairs must have been long.

Beside him, Lissa gasped. That only convinced him to push further. "Aha! I knew you were there, darkness monster!"

"Monster? I'm not a..." The monster trailed off. Chrom heard metal rustling, before the monster said, "Where are you?"

"Up here! In the light!"

There was a pause. "You are talking to me, right?"

"Of course! Who else would I talk to?" Then Chrom had a thought, and he frowned. "Are there any more monsters with you?"

This time, the monster sighed. "Ah. No, it's just me."

"Then... no one wants you here. Shoo. Go eat someone else."

"I don't know if I can, but I'll try."

Chrom heard the monster's big claws drag over the stone floor. He'd done everyone else a service, getting a monster out from beneath the castle, and as he listened to it leave, he stood at the doorway, feeling proud of himself. That is, until Lissa tugged at his sleeve again.

"What is it?" he said, turning to her.

"Where is it gonna go?"

In an instant, the feeling of pride vanished. As far as he knew, this door was the only way down, and if the monster was leaving, that meant...

"Wait!" he yelled. "Stay there!"

"Eh?"

"I'll get you one of my friends if you don't come up! He's tastier than me, I promise!"

"I don't know what to say."

"Don't! Just stay there!" Before the monster could say anything else, Chrom grabbed hold of Lissa's hand, and he pulled her away. His heart hammered in his chest, but his lips were pulled into a big smile. He didn't expect something like this to be so exciting.

As the dark doorway grew smaller behind them, Lissa said, "Chrom? What's a... friend?"

"Some kind of page, I think? Now come on, let's get out of here!" Chrom dragged them around the corner, taking one last look over his shoulder to make sure the monster hadn't crawled out. It hadn't, which meant it believed him. Lying was bad, but lying to monsters didn't count. Probably.

Wait until Emmeryn heard about the monster below the castle!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The monster of Ylisstol Castle sounds like a neat story concept, though it's probably not something that'd happen in this specific story. And hey, Chrom and Lissa finally show their faces! Since I remembered that Emmeryn was crowned at the age of ten instead of twelve, they're younger here than in the original, so I had to tweak a few things to fit their age.
> 
> I don't know if the last time I went missing for a week, my chapters got longer. This one feels a little short for something that took two weeks to come up. I just felt like I couldn't get the scene with Emmeryn and the tree right, so I cut out a lot of it. Hopefully what remains is at least somewhat sensible.
> 
> As I said before, I prefer not to use OCs in the best of times. Usually, I try to find obscure characters to fill in certain roles, but sometimes there is a role that can't be filled with anyone but an OC. I do hope their usage does not become too jarring. Feel free to let me know if that happens.
> 
> With enough luck, I'll be able to get something out by next week. Until then, I wish you all well, and stay safe!


	8. Chapter 8

The moon was staring at her.

It was hard not to think that, not when the only window she'd had gave her a faceful of moonlight as she lay on the burlap sheet draped over the stone floor. She could have moved anytime she wanted, she supposed, but if she moved a little to the right, the floor would poke into her back, and if she moved to the left, her chains would begin to chafe.

So she stayed there. Hoping sleep would claim her, if only to settle the thoughts racing about her head.

She had no such luck.

Only hours ago, clouds had covered the sky, the gentle tittering of rainfall had reverberating throughout her room like a thousand tiny soldiers were marching through the city's streets, but that had long since passed. Now, there were no clouds to shield her from the moon's condemning silver gaze. The rain had found its way to her cell window as well, and the rhythmic sound of water dripping down from the street only worked to keep sleep barely out of her reach.

The burlap sheet did little to make the cobblestone any more comfortable, and the chill imbued into the floor slipped past it and soaked into her skin. Already the back of her head was beginning to throb. She was sure she could feel something crawl up her side, but when she glanced down, she couldn't make anything out in the dark.

As the minutes flew by, and she felt sleep come no closer than it had before, her mind began to wander. Thoughts began to surface in her head, ones she'd have rather left untouched.

Lucina tried to shift herself into a more comfortable position. A sharp jab at her side was her reward, and as she flinched back, she reached over to push the protruding object away.

Her hands closed around something sharp. She hissed, and as she swerved her head around to get a good look at whatever it was, she found her own eyes staring back at her on the metal blade of a knife.

She frowned. _What would a knife be doing down here?_ Her eyes trailed down to the blade, and she noticed that the handle was missing. A passerby must have thrown it into the cell window before her arrival, as if it were nothing more than rubbish. It was still sharp too, given how easily it had pricked her fingers, and it baffled Lucina how someone could have thrown something like this away.

In her time, any weapon would have been put through full use before it was discarded.

Again, she glanced up at the cell window, and a small part of her mind wondered, _Is that all I am right now? A life to be discarded like rubbish?_ She shook her head a moment later. _No, that can't be it. Emmeryn was not someone to sentence someone's death so callously._

As much as she would have preferred to steer clear of it, the thought brought her back to her own execution.

Emmeryn wasn't like this. Everyone she'd known said she'd never hurt a soul, so to go far as to sentence her to execution? That was punishment saved for only the truly evil people, like Walhart and Gangrel. What had she done to warrant such a punishment?

No, this wasn't what Emmeryn would have wanted. The Emmeryn of her time, anyway.

Something must have gone wrong.

Perhaps this was a result of her action. No, that couldn't have been it. She'd only been here for... three days now? Four days, at most. There was no way she could have messed up the timeline that badly. No chance at all.

But if it wasn't her, what was it? Her brows furrowed in thought, her mind combing through all the possibilities she could think of. With how tired she was, it wasn't long before her drifting lost its focus, and suddenly, she found her mind completely blank.

A sigh escaped her lips. She would have to dwell upon it at a later date, and as she let the knife fall back to her side, she stared up at the moon, silently begging for it to let sleep drag her into the morning.

_A morning closer to my execution,_ her brain supplied helpfully.

Her stomach clenched. She sat up, suddenly queasy. Death was nothing she hadn't faced before, nothing she hadn't overcome time and time again. So then why was this any different?

Maybe it was because she now faced death at the hands of family? Yes, that had to be it. It must be. Emmeryn, she was someone her father had loved dearly. Lucina had to save her from Gangrel's assassins when the war came around, but if she let things continue as they were...

She had to get out of here. She'd been given a chance to save her father. All her efforts would be for nothing if she died here.

Her fingers closed around the knife in her hands, even as the metal bit into her skin. If she wasn't going to sleep, she may as well make good use of her time.

Besides, she was just one girl. No one would miss her if she disappeared. The timeline would be better off without her.

* * *

Dressed in a pale yellow nightgown, one assured looked as beautiful as the buttercups in the garden, she'd been assured, Emmeryn came to a stop before the door to Chrom and Lissa's room. Beneath it, she could still see the shadows move around in the light. She tried to smile, despite the terrible thoughts storming in her, but she didn't think it would be convincing enough.

It had to, though. They would worry if they saw her worried. Besides, they didn't need to know about this, not with their father's killer locked up in the castle's dungeon.

She reached for the door, stopping when she heard voices through the wood.

"Could you tell us another story, Nan?" Though his voice was muffled, Emmeryn could still tell it was Chrom's.

"That was the last one in this book."

Nan? That was what they called their old caretaker, wasn't it?

Emmeryn relaxed, then frowned. She had no reason not to relax in her own home, surely.

As she reached for the door handle, she heard Lissa say, "I want another."

"Yeah! Can you make one? Please? Father did it all the time!" Chrom added.

"It's long past sunset," Nan replied. "Do you think you could sleep without another story?"

"Yeah, but–"

Silence cast over the room the moment Emmeryn pushed the door open. Words formed in her throat, only to die before they could reach her mouth as she found herself face to face with someone... different.

The woman before her couldn't have been much older than the youngest pegasus knights. Her mousey brown hair and strict expression made her look even older, but even then Emmeryn thought she looked far too young to be the old woman Emmeryn was used to seeing.

The way she raised her eyebrow was oddly similar, however, and it was that which let Emmeryn find her words again.

"Who are–"

"I'm the caretaker's assistant," the woman replied.

"The caretaker has an assistant?"

"Of course. She came down with an illness, so she had to rest today." The woman's eyes narrowed. "That is still allowed, am I wrong?"

"Ah... I... I'd think so?" Emmeryn's eyes strayed to her right. Chrom waved back at her, and she suddenly remembered what she was about to say before.

"Chrom. You're not troubling your caretaker, I hope."

Chrom shook his head. "Nuh-uh. She was just reading us a story!"

Emmeryn looked to Nan for confirmation. "Your brother has been of no trouble," she said. "I was just about to tuck them in."

"There's no need. I can do the rest," Emmeryn said.

"As you wish, your Grace," Nan replied.

She bowed her head and stepped past Emmeryn. The door closed behind her with a click, and then, they were alone.

"Your Grace?" Chrom asked the second Nan was gone. "I thought people only called father that."

Emmeryn winced. She'd hoped she wouldn't have to tell them until she was ready, but, as it had been so often, the world had other ideas. She just couldn't have her way, could she?

With a sigh, Emmeryn said, "They did."

"So why are they calling you that? You're not father." Chrom tilted his head. "I think."

"No. No, I am not. They..." Emmeryn bit her lip before the truth could come tumbling out. Her father was dead. There was nothing to do about it now. It hurt just thinking about it.

But to lay that hurt on them as well? She wasn't cruel enough to do that.

"The other nobles, that is, decided that father has been gone for too long, and that until he returns, I shall rule in his stead."

"Really? That's so cool!" Chrom's eyes lit up, and Emmeryn allowed herself to smile.

"Am I gonna have to call you Grace too?" Lissa asked.

"No, Lissa," Emmeryn said, and she shook her head. "I still want to be Em to you two. Please."

Everyone around her was so different, now that she was Exalt. Her siblings couldn't change too. They had to stay the same. She wanted them to be the same.

Lissa's eyes roamed to the ceiling, her lips pulled into a pout. "Okay," she said after a moment of thought.

Emmeryn had to hold back a sigh of relief.

"Now, last I remembered, you two were supposed to be getting ready to sleep." Chrom's bed creaked as Emmeryn sat down on it. "Do you need me to kiss you goodnight?"

"Nuh-uh! We can't sleep." Chrom replied.

Emmeryn's lips tugged down. "Why not?" she asked.

"Because we're not sleepy. Right Lissa?" Chrom crossed his arms, and he turned to Lissa for support.

"Yea–" Lissa cut herself off with a loud yawn.

"Lissa!"

"Sorry."

"We don't want to sleep." Chrom turned back to Emmeryn, his hands on his hips. He was only four, so of course he would be excited. She knew there would be little convincing him into the bed.

"It's late," she still reminded him.

"But we're not sleepy! There's so much we want to do!"

"Chrom, you need to–"

"Oh! Did you do anything cool today?"

"Hm?"

Chrom leaned forward. "You said the others made you ruler. Did you get to do anything cool, like talking to the royal guards?"

"Ah... no. No, I did not. I just had a boring day, doing boring things like..." Emmeryn racked her mind for a lie, something dull enough to divert his attention. "Reading."

"Aw. That is boring."

"What about you? Did you have an exciting day?"

"Oh yeah! Em, you'll never guess what we found below the first floor!"

_Below the first floor? There wasn't anything beneath the first floor, as far as I can remember. Nothing except for–_

Emmeryn's mind screeched to a halt. Her eyes flew wide, and she looked back at Chrom. "What did you find?"

"A monster!"

Chrom looked much too happy for something like that. Nervously, she asked, "A monster, you say? You... didn't go down, did you?"

To her relief, he replied, "No, it was too scary."

Her smile returned to her lips. Slowly at first, when a thought struck. "Is that why you don't want to sleep? Because you're scared the monster will come up to eat you?"

"No." Chrom looked away.

Emmeryn frowned, a little more amused now. "Chrom."

"Yes?"

"You don't have to worry about the monster downstairs," she said, pushing him down into the bed. "I... talked with her, and she says she won't ever come upstairs to eat you."

"Really?"

"Of course."

Chrom looked far from relieved at that. If anything, he looked... disappointed?

"That's boring. If father were here, he would smash the monster to bits. Why couldn't you have done that?"

Emmeryn looked away. She'd hoped to distract herself from that. Why did it have to come back to bite her?

"I... I don't think I can do anything like that."

"Well, I believe you can. It's just some stupid monster, right?"

"Why don't you get some sleep?"

"I told you, I'm not sleepy!" Chrom huffed. "Me and Lissa..."

He sat up and turned to the bed next to him, but, to his despair, found Lissa snoring away. Chrom groaned. He didn't want to sleep, as far as Emmeryn could see.

"Please?" She looked down at him. When he looked back, she put on her best smile. A creased brow, a soft turn of her lips. Just like the one father always gave her.

"Fine." With a sigh, Chrom fell back into his bed. "But you promise to make sure the monster doesn't eat me?"

"I promise the monster won't come and eat you," Emmeryn said, and she pulled the covers over Chrom.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

Emmeryn gave him one last smile for the night. The bed shifted again, this time as she pushed herself off. When she turned to leave, however, Chrom grabbed her sleeve.

"Em!"

She had to bite back a tired moan from slipping through her lips. "What is it?"

"You forgot my goodnight kiss. Remember? You said you'd do it."

Emmeryn blinked. "Did I?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Right." The goodnight kiss. It was part of her duty as an older sister, something she'd done so many times before. Yet as she leaned down, softly planting her lips on his forehead, she couldn't help but feel something was missing. Maybe because she was now the only one left to do it.

"Was that good?" she asked as she pulled away.

"Yeah," Chrom said, nodding. "Just like father used to do."

"Oh." Emmeryn turned for the door, hoping it would hide her wince.

The silence in the air hung over her like a weight as she crossed the room. She had only begun to pull the door open when Chrom asked, "When is father coming back?"

Emmeryn paused. Searched herself for an answer. "He..." She let out a breath through her teeth. "Soon. Father will be back soon."

"He'd better. I miss him."

"I miss him too," she said, keeping her eyes out into the hall.

The door clicked shut behind her. She slid down, ignoring how the wood scraped against the back of her nightgown, and she sighed.

"Oh father," she muttered into her knees. "What am I supposed to do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emmeryn just can't catch a break, can she?
> 
> So, I'm not dead, and neither is this story. Progress is slow, and I'm sorry for not getting anything out for the past week. I was dealing with writer's block and all that fun jazz. To make up for that, I've also uploaded a sort of bonus chapter as a separate piece. You don't have to read it to understand whatever happens in the story (I hope), but it was just something fun I cooked up while trying to bring myself back to this story.
> 
> As always, I hope to be able to get a more consistent schedule, but this summer really hasn't been the best time to write. Not only with all the current events, but all the other things I've gotten myself mixed up in as well. The story's slowed quite drastically, but I promise, I've got a destination in mind.
> 
> If you've stuck around, I hope this was at least somewhat worth the wait. Until next time, I wish you all well, and stay safe.


	9. Chapter 9

The walk back to her room was a lonely one. The echoes of her soft footsteps were her only company as she trudged through the empty halls. She'd never noticed before, but without the servants running out and about, the castle seemed so empty.

Surely the trip to her room hadn't always been this long.

She passed door after door. Down the hall, she heard heavy footsteps. She stopped. For a second, she debated hiding in one of the doors to her left.

There was no need. As soon as she caught sight of the blue armor in the dim light, and the Ylissean insignia adorning it, she let out a sigh of relief. The knight turning around the corner stopped in front of her.

"Is there a problem, your Grace?" he asked.

"I-it's nothing," she replied, and she waved a hand to dismiss him. "Carry on."

The knight nodded. With his lance held high and his back held straight, he continued past her, like nothing had ever happened.

As Emmeryn watched him move away, she raised a hand to her face.

She was only so jumpy because she was tired. That was all there was to it. A good night's sleep, and all her doubts would go away. Or, at least, they would be easier to handle tomorrow.

Finally, she rounded the last corner to her room. Just a few steps more, and she could fall into the comforting embrace of her bed.

She stepped forward, then stopped. She rubbed her eyes, just to make sure she wasn't seeing things, and when it didn't magically disappear, she tensed.

Someone was peeking through her bedroom door.

Was it a Plegian spy? An assassin, here to do to her what they did to her father?

Whoever they were, they hadn't seen her yet. There was a patrolling knight just a little further down the hall. If she backed away now, maybe she could alert him before the assassin noticed her.

A breeze passed through the hall, shifting the torchlight above them, and it lit up the faded golden stripes running down his ragged clothes.

_Oh. He's just a nobleman,_ Emmeryn thought. _A rather poor one, but still, a nobleman._ She frowned, this time in frustration. _What does he want?_

She approached him slowly, her slippers plodding lightly over the carpet.

"Excuse me," she said. "May I help you–"

"Ah!" The red-haired man jumped up and spun to face her. Draped over his arms were her bright yellow bed sheets. "Your Grace, there you are."

Emmeryn's lips tugged further down. "What are you doing?" she asked, and she eyed the sheets piled up in his hands.

"What am I–" The man followed her gaze, and his brow furrowed. "Oh. I do hope you'll forgive the state your bed is in."

"I'm sorry. I'm not sure I understand." Was there something to see about her bed? She'd not been to her room yet, so she wouldn't know.

"You see, my daughter was supposed to take care of it, but she got a little lost. As you can see," he said, hefting the sheets in his arms, "I had to finish the job for her."

"Well, I'd like to go to bed, if you wouldn't mind."

"Of course, your Grace," the man said. He stepped aside as she reached for the door. "But don't you think you could wait just a minute?"

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it's fine," Emmeryn said, and she pulled the door open.

Everything was just as it had been. Everything, that is, except for the mattress sitting atop her bed frame, stripped clear of the yellow sheets she'd been so fond of.

She connected the dots very quickly. He wasn't a nobleman or anything of the like. He was a servant, here to make her bed.

"You haven't made the bed yet?" she asked, turning to the man behind her.

"Why else would I be here?"

"I'm so sorry," Emmeryn said, her eyes growing wide. "I never realized. I was just so tired I assumed you were someone else."

"It's no bother," the servant replied. Reaching out, he pulled over a cushioned seat away from the wall. "If you could take a seat, I'll try to finish as soon as possible."

Emmeryn nodded. As she let her tired legs rest upon the soft velvet padding, she watched the man go about, spreading the bright yellow sheets over her mattress, humming as if he'd done this a thousand times. He moved with such ease and such comfort that for a second, Emmeryn could almost imagine he was her father, checking for monsters beneath her bed.

This man's daughter was a very lucky girl, she decided. Luckier than her, at least. She still had someone to tuck her in at night. Emmeryn would never have that, not anymore, and briefly, she felt a tinge of jealousy for this daughter she'd never met.

Why couldn't she have her father? She wanted someone to kiss her goodnight too.

"Your Grace? Your bed is ready."

Emmeryn blinked. Sure enough, her bed was neatly made, crisp and orderly, like it always was.

"Thank you," Emmeryn said. She raised her gaze to meet the servant's. He frowned back, almost as if he'd noticed something strange.

It vanished the moment she blinked, so she might have imagined it. She wiped her arm over her eyes as she made her way over, and ignored the wetness trailing down her sleeve.

The mattress rustled as she slipped beneath the covers. For a moment, she let herself believe her father was here, just to tuck her in one last time.

Above her, the door creaked open. She glanced up to see the servant standing halfway out the door. His mouth opened a little, as if a word was just on the tip of his tongue. All that managed to leave his lips was air.

"What is it?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing to worry about," he said. "I simply wanted to apologize for my daughter. I'll make sure she knows where she's going next time."

A sense of relief mixed with her disappointment, leaving a foul taste in her mouth. "It's no trouble," she said, trying not to let it show. "You are dismissed."

"You're too kind, your Grace." The man bowed his head, and he slipped out.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Emmeryn alone again. Beside her, the moonlight slipped in through the curtains. She rolled over, her eyes staring up at the ceiling.

All the answers would come to her tomorrow. She was sure of it.

* * *

Come morning, and all she wanted to do was fall back to sleep. There was no magical moment of realization, no voice in her head telling her what the right thing was.

And unless the gods wanted her to suffer, the heavy weight pressed down on her eyelids was not some form of divine intervention.

She stayed quiet at the breakfast table. Not that Chrom and Lissa seemed to notice, too wrapped up in some scheme she was not privy to. Across the table, whispers floated between them out of her earshot. She wanted to ask what they were talking about.

But she had lied to them last night, about father. Maybe it was best to let them have their own secrets too.

Her spoon clicked against the porcelain bowl as she swirled her porridge around it. In her other hand, she fiddled with a peach. She rolled it up, down, and all around the wooden table. Anything that didn't involve eating it.

From the corner of her eye, she watched a bit of peach fall from her brother's mouth. The briefest of frowns crossed her face. Surely Tomas, or Nan, or even Nan's strange assistant had told him it was rude to speak with his mouth full?

The fruit trailed from the bottom of her brother's lips to his chin. She followed it as it tumbled through the air, and landed in a heap of bright orange, red, and white on the tabletop.

And that's when a horrifying thought hit her.

The girl in the dungeon. The execution.

Her siblings suspected nothing, at least for now. But executions were a very public event, and though she'd never had the stomach to go see any of her father's executions, word got out very quickly.

There would be questions. Who was the girl? Why was she being executed? And why was Emmeryn's name painted all over it?

Her gut clenched just thinking about it. _No no no. I'm not ready to answer that. What do I even say?_

Her chair scraped against the floor as she jumped to her feet suddenly. That, her siblings noticed, and she winced.

"Em?" Chrom asked. "Where are you going?"

Emmeryn opened her mouth to speak, when something wet splashed against her leg. She looked down, and she saw a bit of porridge splattered over her nightgown.

She'd completely forgotten about the spoon still in her hands.

"I spilled a bit of porridge on the floor," she said. "I was just about to go fetch a maid to clean it up."

She spun on her heel and rushed out the door without waiting for a reply.

She had to stop the execution. She couldn't do it now, not before she was ready for her siblings to know the truth.

It wasn't as if the dungeons couldn't hold one girl. Her father had used those dungeons before, so they must have been good.

Servants moved aside as she barreled down the halls. She ran through doors, searching for someone, anyone, who could call off the execution. Someone like Tomas, or the pegasus knight captain, or the captain of the royal guard.

She didn't bother looking ahead, and when she turned the corner, she crashed head first into someone else. The girl gave a startled cry, and they both fell back.

As Emmeryn rubbed her head, she lifted her gaze from the floor. The first thing she noticed about the girl sitting across from her was the white, plated armor over her chest. A lance lay a few feet away.

Her eyes widened in recognition. The girl was a pegasus knight! She'd know that kind of armor anywhere!

Emmeryn shot up, not a moment to lose. "Where's your captain?" she blurted out.

"The captain?" the pegasus knight said, and she ran a hand through her pale blue hair. "Last I saw, she was in the courtyard, looking for her son."

"Her son is missing?"

The pegasus knight shrugged. "It's unlikely. He tends to get up earlier than her, and often forgets his breakfast. She probably wants to make sure he ate this morning."

Emmeryn bowed her head in gratitude, and she murmured a quick thanks. She turned and headed toward the courtyard, and as she passed by another group of servants holding a set of dirtied dishes in their hands, she hoped the pegasus knight captain would understand why the execution had to be canceled.

* * *

"You want me to stand here?"

"Uh-huh!" Chrom nodded.

The taller boy with the brown hair stared back at him and narrowed his eyes. He didn't complain, though, and he stepped up to the open door and the darkness through it.

Behind him, Chrom felt Lissa shuffle her feet. He looked back at her. They exchanged glances, Lissa holding tight onto the ball in her hands. She'd wanted to play with that today, but Chrom had convinced her this would be more exciting.

She didn't look thrilled with this, though, so Chrom grinned to cheer her up.

They were lucky this boy had agreed to follow them here, otherwise they would have had to show up empty-handed. Em told them the monster wasn't going to eat them, but it couldn't hurt to be prepared. Besides, he'd made a promise, and a prince always had to keep his promises.

Which was why it was so annoying when the boy stopped at the top of the stairs and just looked into the black hole.

"I'm not sure about this," the boy replied. "My mother said never to go down there."

"Why not? Because there are monsters there?"

Lissa tugged at his arm. When he looked over his shoulder, she frowned back.

"Monsters?" The boy laughed. "No, nothing so silly."

Silly? Clearly, the boy had never met a real monster.

He continued, "She said the stairs were dangerous. Nobody's taken care of them in a very long time, so they're dusty. You could slip on them and fall."

"But could you do it for us? Please?" He blinked up at the boy, the same way he remembered that one girl had done the last time his father had brought him on a trip.

The boy looked at the floor. "Well... my mother would not be very happy."

"We won't tell, I promise!"

"I... I don't know..."

"Lissa doesn't want to go down without me," Chrom said, and he held Lissa close, "and I don't want to go down alone with Lissa."

The boy looked at them, then back to the stairs. He stepped back. Hummed.

"I'm going to need a broom," he said at last. "Do you know where those–"

"Fredrick. Where are you? You haven't had your breakfast yet."

The boy, Frederick, froze. "Mother." Turning back to them, he said, "I'm sorry. I have to go."

Chrom stepped aside as the boy ran past. He tried to pull Lissa with him too, so she wouldn't get run over. She tripped and yelped.

As the boy disappeared around the corner, Chrom hoped he would come back. He wanted to see the monster today, and without someone with them, he would have to do it later. Seconds passed, and when he didn't return, Chrom frowned in disappointment.

He turned back to Lissa to tell her the bad news. Instead, he found herself staring at the darkness, her eyes wide with horror.

"Lissa?" he asked. "What's wrong? And where's your..."

Chrom looked at her empty hands, then followed her gaze down the stairs.

"Oh."

He could hear the ball bounce, and bounce, and bounce. When it stopped, he knew it reached the bottom.

Where the monster waited.

Lissa whimpered. She looked like she was about to cry, or start whining.

"We can get another one!" Chrom said, hoping to distract her. He grabbed her hand and tried to tug her back.

Lissa pulled her hand away. "I want to play with that one!" she said.

"What's so special about that one?"

"Em gave it to me!"

"Oh."

Oh indeed. If Em bought it, then it must have been special. Everything Em gave them was very special because they were her things. They couldn't leave something like that in the hands of a monster.

Even if it meant he might get eaten.

Chrom swallowed the fear building up in his throat. Clearing his throat, he cupped a hand to his mouth, and said, "Hello?"

He didn't hear anything at first, so he leaned closer. Very faintly, he could hear something screech. It was like the sound of swords clashing together, only very, very quiet.

It was probably sharpening its claws against the bones lying around on the floor, waiting for its next meal to fall down the stairs.

"Hello?" he said, louder this time.

This time, the sound stopped. Chrom heard something thud against the floor, and the monster mumbled something he couldn't understand.

"Who's there?" the monster said after a moment.

"It's me!" he said. "From yesterday. My sister dropped something down there."

"Is it... this ball?"

"Yes! That's the one!" Chrom stepped forward, but he stopped himself. "We're going to come down now. Can you... not eat us when we get there? Please?"

"I'm not going to..." The monster's voice faded back into nonsense. Or maybe it was the monster language. "I won't eat you."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

"Do you swear on the monster king you're not going to eat us? Me and my sister, I mean."

"Swear on the monster king?"

"Yeah! My big sister says you can't break a promise that way."

"Oh, for Naga's sake... Fine, I swear upon the monster king that I won't eat you."

Chrom sighed in relief. He looked at Lissa again, and she seemed just as happy as he was.

"Okay!" he said. "We're going to come down now."

He took Lissa's hand in his, just so she wouldn't be scared. Then, slowly, he took a step down, and he waited. When no wrinkly green hand reached out from the shadows to pull him in, he let out a long breath, and he took another.

Two steps became three, then three steps became five, until one by one, they strolled down the staircase. All around them, the walls grew darker and darker, until only the faintest shine outlined the steps before them.

Suddenly, there was light. Down by their left, an orange glow painted the cobblestone walls and lit up the room for them to see.

Confused, Chrom looked back upstairs. There wasn't supposed to be light here, right? This new light did come from around the bend, though, so maybe the walls hid the light.

But monsters were supposed to only live in the dark. If there was light, something wasn't adding up.

Glancing back at Lissa one last time, Chrom stepped inside.

Above him, a torch flickered brightly. No one had been down here for a very long time, but it still burned. On the other side, a set of big, iron bars glowed in the torchlight. Chrom wasn't sure what they were for, but they looked mean, so he backed away from them.

Between the bars, a bowl sat against a wall, traces of porridge stuck all over inside it, and just beside that was–

"My ball!" Lissa said.

She rushed past Chrom before he could stop her, dragging them both closer to the bars. Chrom yelled in surprise. He tried to remind her, to warn her that they still hadn't seen the monster yet, when...

When a hand came down to rest on top of the ball.

Not green and full of warts, like he'd imagined, but pale, like his and Lissa's.

His eyes trailed up to an arm covered in a blue sleeve. He looked up further, to its chest, covered as well, then to its neck, hidden beneath a blue scarf. At last, he looked up at its face. Deep blue hair ran down its head, almost black in the dim light.

But its face, it almost looked like Em's face, save for that dark black spot covering the left side of her face.

This wasn't a monster. This was a girl!

"You're no monster!" was the first thing out of his mouth.

The monster's – no, girl's – eyebrows tugged down. "Yes. I am aware," she said.

Without a word, she rolled the ball back out between the bars. Lissa swooped down to grab it, before she dashed back behind his legs in an instant.

Chrom frowned, and he scratched his hair. This was so confusing! "But I thought you were a monster, and you're not! Why didn't you say anything?"

"I did say something," she replied.

"Then you should have tried harder!"

"Well, I don't suppose it matters much now, does it?" The girl sighed. "I'm not a monster."

"Why not?" Lissa piped up from behind him.

Chrom looked back. To his surprise, she stepped up, her face confused as well.

"Why... not?" The girl narrowed her eyes. Her hair draped over her face as she tilted her head.

She didn't understand them. Or, she didn't understand how much she did look like a monster, with that big black spot on her face.

"You have one eye," Chrom said, and he pointed at the place where her other eye should have been.

"Oh no, I have another eye."

Chrom crossed his arms. "Can we see?" he said, not believing it.

"I... can't." The girl looked away with her one eye. "I have to keep it hidden."

"Is it because you're a monster?"

"No, it isn't." The girl shook her head. "My eye is hurt. That's all."

Chrom gasped. "You're hurt? Let me get my sister! She can–"

"No!"

The girl's sudden shout startled him. He stepped back, eyes wide.

"Eh?"

The girl's gaze softened. "It's fine," she said. "I don't need a healer."

Fine? That was a very strange thing to say, for someone who definitely wasn't fine. She'd even said so herself!

"But you only have one eye!" he tried to point out.

"I haven't had this eye for a long time."

"But everyone knows you need two eyes! I gotta get my sister to get it back for you!"

He turned to leave, but before he could go, she said, "I'm afraid no healing magic can bring me back my eye."

This time, Chrom shook his head. "You don't know that!"

"I do."

"But you haven't tried!"

"I have."

She spoke with such a serious voice, when Chrom looked back and saw her eyes, steady and unwavering, he couldn't help but believe her.

"Oh."

His gaze fell to the floor. She couldn't have two eyes? He couldn't imagine what that was like, but it must be terrible!

"Hey, don't look so down." The girl's voice rang him from his thoughts. He looked back up, and oddly enough, the girl's lips were turned up in a smile.

"Why?" he asked. "I wanna help you, but you won't let me. Why won't you let me help you?"

"There's nothing you can do. I lost this eye a very long time ago."

"Just like Sir Silas."

Chrom looked over at Lissa. She was staring right at the girl, her eyes glittering with excitement., and when Chrom's mind caught up with his ear, he brightened up too.

"You're right!" he said, and he snapped back to the girl. "Just like Sir Silas from father's stories!"

"Sir Silas? I've never heard of him," the girl said, frowning.

That was news to Chrom. "You don't? But everyone knows who he is! At least, that's what father said. Father always said he lost his eye in a big fight, trying to save his mommy from some bad guys. Is that how you lost your eye too?"

"Well, it wasn't anything like that–"

"Ooh! Tell me! Tell me please!" Chrom said.

"I wanna know too!" Lissa said, and they both leaned forward.

"Ah." The girl inched away. "I don't think you'd like... that is, I don't believe I should say–"

Suddenly, a thought popped into his head. Something so obvious, he had to stop himself from slapping his forehead. In all his excitement, he'd forgot to introduce himself, and as a prince, that was very important.

"My name is Chrom."

The girl's eyes widened. "I–I'm sorry?" she stammered.

"I just realized, I forgot to say my name. Nan says that I should always say my name when I meet someone." Chrom held out a hand for her to shake. "What is yours?"

The girl stared at his hand. For a second, he thought he'd done something wrong. _This was what you were supposed to do when you met someone, right?_

The answer came to him a second later. The bars! She couldn't reach through them, so he might have made her mad. He pulled his hand away, but when he looked back up, he thought he saw water pool in her eyes.

Something flashed through them, something he couldn't quite place.

"Luci–Marth. My name is Marth."

LuciMarth? A strange name, but Nan said everyone from other places had weird names, so he shouldn't think that way.

He smiled instead. "Well, it's nice to meet you, LuciMarth!"

"Can you tell us? Please?" Lissa said beside him.

"Yeah." Chrom nodded with her. "Father always told us stories before he... he left."

"O–of course fath–of course," LuciMarth said, and she looked up. "I'll do anything for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to upload this last night, but my wifi cut out.
> 
> At last, Lucina's met her father. It's not quite as sudden as the last time, but I like it better this way.
> 
> Until next time, I wish you all well, and stay safe!


	10. Chapter 10

"I'm sorry?"

"I want to cancel the execution." Emmeryn put on her best scowl, the same one she'd seen father use time and time again to get what he wanted.

Most people got mad. They shouted, they scowled back.

Captain Madeline raised an eyebrow.

Emmeryn wavered, but just a tiny bit. "I know you must have worked hard on this," she said, pointing to a raised wooden platform behind the captain, "but we don't need it anymore."

"Oh, Naga dammit," Emmeryn heard a soldier groan behind her, followed by a heavy wooden thunk.

Captain Madeline looked over her shoulder. "I'd be a little more careful with that if I were you," she called out. "Our carpenter is a picky man, and he gets quite fussy if we bring him damaged wares if you can catch my meaning. We wouldn't want any more delays to this execution, would we?"

"You can't!" When she noticed everyone's eyes on her, she shrank back. "I mean, you don't have to."

There was a pause. The soldier looked between Captain Madeline and her, before he shrugged, picked up the wooden planks lying at his feet, and continued on.

The pegasus knight's armor rustled as she knelt down beside Emmeryn, a hand on her knee. "Your Grace," she said, "can I have a word?"

"You may?"

"Ah... Well... How do I explain this..." Captain Madeline stopped. She glanced up at the sky, adjusted the hand resting on her knee, and hummed. "You're not too old for stories, are you?"

"I don't think so?"

"Oh. Good." Captain Madeline gave a small laugh. "My son says he's too old for stories. It's nice to know girls take longer to outgrow them. In any case, I'd like to tell you a story."

"A story? About what?" Emmeryn asked.

Captain Madeline frowned. "What's it about? Well... I'm not going to say it, but it's about you."

Emmeryn tilted her head. "Huh?"

"Yes, it's about you and your father. I know now might not be the best time to speak of him, especially with how soon he'd just passed, so I'm not going to mention him either. He was Exalt for the longest time, though, and for good reason too. He showed he had the strength to lead his people to victory, so they listened to him."

"You, on the other hand, have yet to prove your worth. You haven't had a chance yet, so that's okay. You're quite the youthful spirit, and... let's just say the others are a little more than reluctant to respect your rule."

"What?"

Emmeryn yelped as Captain Madeline put a hand to her shoulder. "It can be quite the challenge to wrap your mind around it, so I'll try to simplify it as best I can. You see, there was a girl–"

"No," Emmeryn cut her off before she could go on what was sure to be another lengthy tangent. "You already told me all about that."

"I did?" Captain Madeline frowned. "Oh. It would seem I have."

"Everyone loves my father, I get it. Why, though, must we carry out this execution?"

The captain's armor rustled again. To Emmeryn's confusion, her face shifted into an unsure look. A worried look, even.

"I'm sure your father has brought you to his hearings, has he not?" When Emmeryn nodded, she continued, "Then you must have noticed how empty the throne room was yesterday."

Emmeryn blinked. She hadn't noticed, but now that she'd mentioned it, the lords and ladies who so often populated the sidelines had been strangely absent.

"Maybe it was time for their lunch?" Even as the words left her mouth, she knew it was a poor excuse.

Captain Madeline didn't seem to fault her for that. "Your Grace, your hearings are quite important events. Missing something like that without an excuse is sure to anger the Exalt."

"But I'm not mad at them."

"Maybe not. But they don't know that, do that?"

Emmeryn clenched her fists. She didn't want her people to know her as the Exalt who got mad at every little thing. Her father had told her that was bad, but if no one else knew... Well, that frustrated her to no end.

"So do they want to make me mad?" she asked.

Captain Madeline shook her head. "No, not exactly. They simply won't care if you get mad. With your fa–" A cough. "With someone as young as you on the throne, everyone will try to steal it out from under you if you can't prove to them that you can keep it."

"They would want to steal it? But why?" This was always how things were supposed to go, wasn't it? She was supposed to rule over everyone, and everyone was supposed to listen to what she said. To think that anyone would try to change that, to take it away, it was unimaginable.

"I'm afraid not everyone can be as understanding and exemplary as you, Your Grace." Captain Madeline's lips quirked up, the first time she'd ever seen them do so. "By executing this traitor, you will show your people that you are not a child to be fooled and toyed with. No one would dare attempt to take your kingdom from you."

As much as Emmeryn hated to admit, the offer was tempting. She never wanted her siblings to find out about the execution, but if the only other option was to lose everything they'd always had before...

They would blame her for sure. Maybe they would be horrified of her choice now, but at least they could still live happy lives.

Right?

"Do you see why we cannot keep the execution away?" Captain Madeline asked.

Emmeryn opened her mouth to reply when she heard footsteps come from behind her. She looked back, and her face brightened the second she saw who it was.

"Your Grace!" Tomas said, walking briskly across the courtyard to meet her. The red-haired nobleman followed him, a teapot and a pair of teacups nested on the platter in his hands. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you." His eyes narrowed as he glanced up at Captain Madeline. "I'd like to know what you are doing with her."

Sensing the hostility between them, Emmeryn stepped forward. "Tomas!" she said. "Is there anything you need?"

"Only a moment of your time. Alone." Tearing his eyes from Captain Madeline, Tomas smiled at her.

Emmeryn opened her mouth to accept, only to catch a meaningful look from Captain Madeline from over her shoulder. She wanted an answer.

All she could think of was how she didn't have one.

"Do my people not love me?" she asked Tomas.

"Of course they love you."

"Do they really?"

"Yes! They absolutely adore you. Just ask anyone else, and they'll tell you they'd be prepared to defend you from those dastardly Plegians at a moment's notice."

She relaxed. Slowly, a relieved smile began to worm its way back into her own face. "Thank you, Tomas," she said. Turning to Captain Madeline, she bowed her head. "And to you as well, captain, for your concern, but I don't believe an execution will be necessary."

Captain Madeline's brows pulled down into a frown. "Your Grace, I must ask you to reconsider," she said. "If you rescind the execution, your people will take it as a sign of weakness. They will revolt."

"I... don't think they will. Will they?" Emmeryn looked to Tomas for help.

He only sneered at Captain Madeline. "Of course you would tell her that," he said. "Hoping to scare you, though I assume I taught you well enough to see through her lies?"

"Ironic," the red-haired nobleman muttered from behind Tomas.

Emmeryn looked over at him, surprised to hear him speak. She wasn't the only one to notice; Tomas looked too, though his expression was a lot less friendly.

"Do you have anything you would like to share, butler?"

The red-haired nobleman glanced away, frowning. "No, sir. I apologize for speaking out of line. I only serve tea."

"Just as I thought. It would be unwise to forget your place." Tomas looked satisfied with that answer. Emmeryn was not, though.

Stepping forward, she asked, "Is there truly nothing you have to say?"

"It is nothing of value," the butler replied. "Forgive me, I simply spoke out of place."

"Even so, I would like to hear what you have to say." She could still remember how conflicted he'd seemed as he finished preparing her bed. Maybe it was silly of her, but whatever words had been on the tip of his tongue then, she hoped to hear now.

"Your Grace," Tomas said, and his face morphed into a confused expression. "What are you doing? You don't need to lend an ear to his word."

"Please, Tomas. I would like to know."

"But he's just a butler. Surely anything someone like him says holds little intellectual merit."

"Even so, I want to know."

"Your Grace, I must insist you give this a second thought."

Emmeryn moved to say something in return, but Captain Madeline beat her to it.

"Her Grace gave you an order. I'd advise against ignoring it. After all, it would be unwise to forget your place, as I'm sure you'd agree."

Tomas had no reply to that.

Without Tomas' protests, Emmeryn turned to the nobleman. "Do you think my people do not love me?"

"I'm not sure what to tell you."

"Tell me the truth, please. My siblings' lives could depend on it."

Sighing, the nobleman said, "Among the staff, no one is quite sure what to think. Everyone is waiting to see what you will do."

"Which is exactly why you must go through with this execution," Captain Madeline said, and she crossed her arms. "The longer you wait, the more time anyone with a plot against you can sway the hearts of your people."

"No!" The noble's outburst surprised them all.

The flat line the captain's mouth had been set into faltered. "No?"

Instead of shrinking away, he stepped toward her, a challenge held within a clenched fist. "That is exactly why you must not go through with the execution."

"And why not, good sir?"

"Because it's wrong. No ordinary girl her age should have to condemn someone to death."

"But she is no ordinary girl her age, is she? She is the Exalt. Her people cannot see her as weak, or as someone afraid to serve a cold platter of justice to those who deserve it."

"There is strength in stopping an execution as well, strength in forgiveness and grace."

"That's not how Exalt Alabaster did it."

"Then Exalt Alabaster was wrong."

Emmeryn saw Captain Madeline's eyes narrow. Tomas whispered something to her, grabbing her arm, but whatever it was, she didn't hear.

"That is no way to speak of the Exalt!" Captain Madeline said. "The dead deserve nothing but our respect, especially a man as great as him."

"Great?" the nobleman scoffed. "He was a tyrant who cowed you all into submission."

"Could I tyrant rouse as many people to his side as he did?"

"Through force, yes."

"That sounds nothing like the Exalt Alabaster I knew of my whole life."

"It's how I knew him in the years I spent in his service."

"And who are you to claim such things?"

The man stepped back to take a bow. "Lord Bartholomew, at your service," he said.

"Lord Bartholomew?" Captain Madeline huffed. "I remember you now. You're the steward the Exalt brought in just before the Plegians attacked. What do you know about the Exalt? You've not been here for five years, and you think you can claim him as some cruel oppressor?"

"I've worked for him long enough to know that, yes."

And suddenly, all eyes returned to Emmeryn, and she flinched.

"Your Grace," Lord Bartholomew said, scowling back at Captain Madeline. "I must implore you to cancel the execution. Aligning yourself with your father will only lead to disaster."

"On the contrary," Captain Madeline replied. "This execution is what your father would have wanted. It is justice for his death. You must not falter in your decision."

Emmeryn stepped back, overwhelmed by the barrage of words. Helplessly, she looked back to Tomas for guidance. _What do I do?_ She tried to say with her gaze.

"Do whatever you must," he said.

Emmeryn glanced between both the captain and the nobleman. Captain Madeline's brown eyes held strong, firm resolve steeling her expression, while Lord Bartholomew's red eyes burned with a fiery passion. Neither was willing to back down, not without her own words.

Taking a deep breath, Emmeryn made a choice.

* * *

"Hello Frederick."

Lifting his gaze from the street he'd been looking down, Frederick found himself staring up at a familiar blue-haired girl.

"Oh, hello Miss Phila," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Your mother sent me to bring you to the dining hall," she replied. "It's time for lunch."

Frederick frowned. "I thought she said she would send Miss Helena."

"Helena? Oh, she was, but she couldn't find her, so she sent me instead." Phila gave him half a smile. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine." Looking away, Frederick added, "Tell mother I'm going to be late."

"Why?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Oh? Found something more important to attend to?" Leaning up against the window beside him, Phila followed his gaze to the raised wooden platform standing just outside the castle walls. At the center, a gallows loomed over a low wooden bench.

"They're almost finished repairing it," Frederick filled her in.

"So I've heard," Phila replied, adjusting her place on the wall. "They say the execution will be held tomorrow. The day after, at the latest."

"Tomorrow? That's slow. Why does it take a whole week for them to finish fixing up this old thing? They should have been done the day the Exalt gave the order."

Phila motioned down to a tiny shop below them, planks stacked just outside the door, a hooded man leaning up against them. “Well, you know Mister Gregor. He’s very picky.” She stopped to shoot Frederick a cheeky grin. “A lot like you.”

Frederick made a face at that. "I don't like cabbages, that's all."

"Frederick, you know cabbages are good for you."

"But they taste so bad!"

Phila chuckled. "If you think that's bad, just wait until you join the Royal Guard."

"What's in the Royal Guard?"

"Sorry. It's not my place to tell." She said that, but the smile slowly spreading across her face told him it was probably something bad.

He looked away with a huff. It was better to stop talking there than to risk saying anything else.

His stomach disagreed, if the way it growled was any indication. Frederick glared down at it, hoping that Phila hadn't heard, but her raised eyebrow dashed that.

"Not hungry, eh?"

"I'm not!" he said.

Again, his stomach told him he definitely was with another growl.

"Alright," Phila said, turning herself to face him. "What's wrong? You don't like missing out on lunch."

"Mother does."

Phila blinked. "The captain?"

"Yes." Frederick knew it wasn't polite to scowl, but he couldn't help himself. "Ever since the Exalt said there was going to be an execution, mother has hardly left her side at all."

"Well," Phila waved her hands in front of him aimlessly, "the Exalt is rather new. She needs all the help she can get, especially with the execution coming up."

"But I need her too!"

"I'm not saying you don't. She probably knows that too. She's just been... busy. That's all." Placing a firm hand on his shoulder, Phila looked at him, smiled, and said, "I promise, once this is all over, everything will go back to normal."

"You really think so?"

"Of course."

Frederick smiled back, feeling a little better with her words. This was only for now. Like Phila had said, as soon as the execution was over, he would have his mother back.

"Hey! Be careful!" someone yelled behind them.

Frederick and Phila turned to look just in time to see a blonde woman stumble into view. Just around the corner, they heard giggling, followed by a chorus of "Sorry miss!"

The woman shook her head with a sigh. When she turned and spotted them, though, her face lit up, and she quickly made her way over.

"Freddy! There you are! I've been looking all over for you!" she said brightly. "And Phila? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Helena," Phila replied, ducking her head. "Captain Madeline sent me to fetch Frederick when she couldn't find you. Sorry."

Helena waved her aside. "It's not your fault, kid." She paused, before adding, "I just passed the prince and princess back there. Do you know what's got them so excited?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Phila said.

"Me too," Frederick added. "And I come here every day."

Helena hummed, shrugging after a second. "Eh. I suppose if you don't know, you don't know." She paused. "Say, what do you two say to heading back to the dining hall for some lunch?"

Frederick looked at Phila. Phila only nodded back. An unspoken message passed between them, comforting Frederick and pushing him forward.

"I'll come," he said at last.

"That's a relief. Hey, maybe if we get there before lunch is halfway done, the captain will forget I went missing. What do you think, Freddy?"

"She won't. My mother never forgets."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a week and a half later, I finally have something to upload. Some more things get put into play, and hey, Frederick makes an appearance too! I felt like some bits were a bit ham-fisted, but sometimes ham-fisted is the only way to get something across, y'know.
> 
> Updating this on Saturday won't be a permanent thing. I just decided to switch up the days which I worked on this fic because I wanted to work on something else on Monday and Tuesday. That's all there is to the story, this isn't a version of me from an alternate reality where I update Mama Lucina on Saturdays instead of Tuesdays. We'll probably get back to our regularly scheduled programming in another week and a half because I don't think I'll get anything done by next Tuesday.
> 
> Until next time, I wish you all well, and stay safe!


	11. Chapter 11

The day of the execution loomed over her, casting its terrible shadow over her already dark and gloomy cell. Dark rings circled her eye, and cuts ran over the palm of her left hand, speaking of an entire week of sleepless nights spent hacking away at the bars. She should have felt terrible.

Right now, though, as she spoke with her father, she couldn't find it in herself to care.

"And there I was," she said, holding her hands out as if to dangle her story before them, "the village around me set ablaze. Our swords and our lances were splintered to bits, and the enemy just beyond the woods outnumbered us a hundred to one."

"What did you do?" Chrom asked with bated breath, his hands pressed against the bars. He and Lissa were almost leaning up against them, so sucked into the story Lucina thought they would fall straight through if they came any closer.

Her cheeks ached as she dragged the corner of her lips up into a smile. "What did we do?" she repeated. "As night fell, though our muscles ached from a day spent fighting, my friends and I roused the townsfolk into action. Bringing down the scorched remains of countless homes, we fashioned them into a wall around what remained of the village. No matter how hard we wanted to rest, we pushed forward because we knew that if we didn't, the villagers would die. Beneath the light of the moon, we stayed up working as hard as we could, and by the time the sun returned, we had built the village the strongest wall it had ever seen!"

"And did it work?" Chrom said.

"Of course it did!" Lucina replied, grinning. "Thanks to us, the villagers were able to drive off the enemy, and my friends and I could finally go to sleep, knowing that the villagers would live thanks to our hard work."

She didn't mention that, the day after they'd left, that village was overrun by a swarm of Risen wyvern riders. They hadn't even considered the Risen could take to the skies, and while Lucina was eternally grateful her friends hadn't been caught in the attack, a small part of her believed the villagers could have survived if they'd just stayed for one more night.

One more night.

Whether she succeeded in her escape or not, one more night was all she had left with her father. As much as she wanted it to never end, as her final story drew to a close, so to, did their time together.

"That's all for tonight," she said, clapping her hands together.

Chrom and Lissa groaned at the same time. "Already?" Chrom asked. "But you barely got to tell us anything today!"

Taking a quick look at the moon hovering in the sky, Lucina said, "It's not good for you to stay up this late. I've kept you here long enough, and I'm sure you have more important things you have to attend to tomorrow."

"But they're so boring! I don't wanna listen to Nan tell us all about etti... edi... ettek..."

"Manners," Lissa told him.

"Yeah! Manners!" Chrom latched on.

Hearing that, Lucina couldn't help but remember the days of her youth, when her mother tried to ingrain those very same lessons of etiquette into her. She'd never cared for them much back then, and it was a little funny to think her father thought the same.

Though maybe if she'd paid more attention, she wouldn't be here right now. Being able to dissuade an angry nobleman went a long way, it seemed.

"Boring they may be, they're still very important for you, especially when you grow up," she said. "Pay attention to your old Nan for me, won't you?"

Chrom hummed. "Only if you promise you'll tell us more stories tomorrow!"

"More stories?" Taken aback, Lucina frowned. "I'm afraid I don't have any more. None that would interest you, anyway. I'm not sure you want to hear about the time one of my friends lost control of his wyvern in the middle of a battle."

"But we do! You're so cool, everything you talk about could make a good story!"

Stunned, Lucina asked, "You really think so highly of me? Why?"

"Why not?" Chrom said, his voice so sure and steady as if it was fact. "When there's people in trouble, you never sleep until you know they're safe. When there's bad guys running around, you never stop looking until they're caught. You're just like a hero from one of father's stories, except... you're real!"

Lucina had received praise before. She'd received it from her friends, from the people she'd saved, but hearing it from him, somehow, made her feel so much better.

"I... thank you," she said. Her face fell into a smile, more natural this time. "I'll try, but I can't promise anything."

"That's good enough for me!" Chrom chirped. "Come on, Lissa!" He turned to his sister, and he grabbed her by the arm. As the two of them reached the stairs, Chrom stopped. He looked over at Lucina one last time, and said, "Goodnight Miss Marth!"

Lissa didn't say anything, instead offering Lucina a tiny wave. Lucina returned it, watching as the two children disappeared around the corner before she finally let her arms fall limp at her sides, slumping back against the wall.

A tired sigh escaped her, and once more, her eye drifted to the bars high above keeping her barred from the street. Her clothing scraped against the floor as she shuffled over to her bedsheet, and she reached beneath it, pulling out the knife she kept hidden there.

"One more night is all I need," she muttered to herself. "I can't promise you I'll have more stories to tell, but I will promise you, this shall not be the last time I see you."

She raised her hands to take hold of the iron bars again. Pressing her blade to them, she resumed her work, sawing it back and forth as, bit by bit, the bars continued to give away.

* * *

Morning came and went, and just like that, the time of the execution had finally arrived.

Standing out on the balcony of her room, Emmeryn swept her gaze over the city before her as the harsh late morning sun struck her face. She looked over the rooftops, the bustling streets, and the steadily growing crowd gathering around the courtyard at the front of the castle. Everything that made up her father's kingdom, now hers to rule.

All this excitement, it felt so sudden, despite the fact Emmeryn had known it would come for almost a week now. She wasn't ready, this felt too soon.

But she hadn't been ready to lose her father. The world moved on, whether she liked it or not.

There was a knock at her door.

"Come in," Emmeryn said, keeping her eyes fixed on the courtyard below.

She heard the door creak open. The sound of footsteps softened over her carpet before finally coming to a stop behind her.

"Your Grace," Tomas said, "your people are waiting for you."

Emmeryn hummed in reply.

"Shall we head over to the gates now? I'm sure you remember what I taught you about being late."

"Timeliness is important for a future Exalt, I know, Tomas." She sighed. "I'll be ready in a moment."

A second of silence passed between them. Emmeryn inhaled. Tried to prepare herself for what she knew was about to happen.

_I'm ready for this. If father could do it, so can I,_ she told herself.

Saying that was easy. Believing it was a whole different matter.

"Are you still unsure about your decision?" Tomas asked.

"I don't know." Finally turning to face him, she said, "What do you think I should do?"

"I cannot say," he replied, "but whatever you do choose, I'll be behind you all the way."

"I see."

"Perhaps a cup of tea would do good to clear your mind?"

Emmeryn frowned. "I thought you said being late would reflect poorly on me."

"I did, didn't I?" Tomas chuckled. "Thank you for reminding me."

Shaking her head, she huffed. "Anyway, this... this is what's best for us. This is what father would have done. It isn't anything to worry about."

"Excellent!" Tomas clapped his hands. "Now, shall we head for the main hall? We wouldn't want to keep the good Captain waiting, would we?"

"No, I suppose not."

Taking one last look out the window, Emmeryn headed for the door. Tomas stopped her halfway there.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Frowning, Emmeryn followed the look he gave over her shoulder to the sword lying on her desk. Falchion, her father's sword, had been there since she'd been told her father was dead. Seeing it only brought back memories she didn't want to face.

"Must I wear my father's sword?" she asked, taking a step back.

"Of course. It's yours now."

It was, but it still felt wrong to call it that. She hadn't touched it since it had been put there. "I don't even know if I can wield it."

"That matters little, I think. Your brother and sister are much too small to hold it themselves, and someone must keep up appearances. This is a rather momentous occasion, after all, and you must look every part the Exalt."

Emmeryn wanted to argue further, but Captain Madeline's words rang in her head. She had to show she was strong.

So, without another word, she walked over to the desk. She grabbed the sword and strapped it around her waist, letting her robes fall back over it before she headed back for the door.

Tomas trailed behind her as she stepped into the hall. A few servants stopped to watch them as they walked past, but most kept to themselves.

The execution was to happen at noon. With the sun nearing the highest point in the sky, Emmeryn knew they would have to move quickly if she wanted to make it in time. In hindsight, her rush should have warranted a little more care, especially when she turned a corner and came crashing into someone else.

The moment she hit the ground, Tomas was at her side. "Your Grace, are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Tomas."

Whirling on the woman sitting across from Emmeryn, Tomas jabbed an accusing finger at her. "You should be more careful. Do you have any idea who you stand before?"

"Tomas, there's no need to make such a fuss over it." Pushing herself to her feet, Emmeryn offered a smile to the woman. "I hope you'll forgive my carelessness, miss..."

Then she stopped. The woman before her almost looked like a skeleton with how thin she was, not to mention her skin was pale as a sheet. Her curly red hair hung off her scalp like a curtain descending from the pointy hat atop her head, and only when she met the sunken eyes watching her through a pair of cracked glasses did she realize that she had stared a little too long.

"Ah! I'm so sorry," Emmeryn said, jumping back. "I didn't mean to be rude."

The woman muttered something Emmeryn couldn't quite catch, aside from "Young Emmeryn."

That was unsettling. The woman recognized her, but she couldn't remember meeting anyone like this, save for...

A name popped into her head, one with a starkly different face. Emmeryn gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as she whispered, "Lady Simone?"

A word emerged through her cracked lips that sounded vaguely like an "Indeed".

Emmeryn recognized the curly red hair, the faded blue robes, but everything about her looked so off it almost felt wrong for her mind to match her face with the name.

"What happened to you?" she was barely able to say.

"Don't you know?" Tomas scoffed. "She has been hiding in her room for almost three years now."

"Why?"

"Who knows? Perhaps she came out of her isolation to see the execution."

Emmeryn watched as the woman pushed herself to her feet and hobbled past them. Her legs shook with every step, as if they were unused to the weight of her body. If anything, her face alone told her she hadn't come close to a trace of sunlight for a very long time.

"Is this execution really such a big deal?" she found herself asking as soon as the woman disappeared around the corner.

"It seems to be," Tomas said. Under his breath, low enough he thought she couldn't hear, he added, "That brute is more clever than I've given her credit for."

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" His smile was back in an instant. "I'm just so proud to see what you've become. If you can make someone like her come out of her room, imagine how much excitement you've roused with the rest of your people."

That got Emmeryn to pause. "The rest of my people?"

A new wave of confusing emotions racked her mind. She'd been so worried about her brother and sister, she had never thought about what everyone else would think. Captain Madeline said they would approve. They had to if she didn't want them to revolt.

But what if they didn't?

"Your Grace?" Tomas' raspy voice snapped her out of her thoughts. As she shook her head, she looked up to meet his narrowed gaze. "Your Grace, what's wrong?" he asked. "You look unwell."

Emmeryn placed a hand over her face. She must not have hidden her feelings as well as she'd thought, and clearing her throat, she replied, "It's trivial. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Still having doubts? My offer for tea still stands."

"Won't I be late?"

Tomas waved a hand. "You're the Exalt. I'm sure if you ordered it, they could delay the execution for another hour."

Tea sounded nice. Her throat felt parched, and if it helped clear her head, nothing but good things could come of it.

Tomas held out a hand. "What do you say, young Emmeryn?"

She reached out to take it, but something forced her to hesitate.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught glimpses of the servants, moving back and forth through the castle halls. They were all around her, hoisting shiny porcelain dishes in the air, or sheets folded across their arms, striding around them as if they were just passing through.

Only, Emmeryn could see their narrowed eyes. Suspicious of her. Though they hid it well, she could feel the gaze of everyone here on her.

Shrinking back, Emmeryn said, "I think I'll pass."

Tomas' kindly smile faltered. At the edge of her vision, she thought she saw his fist clench.

Behind her, she heard the approach of clinking metal boots. Emmeryn spun around, and she was relieved to find Captain Madeline strolling toward her.

"Your Grace," Captain Madeline said, nodding back. "Hello. I was just about to get you."

Emmeryn peered over the captain's shoulder. Following behind her was a boy with hair a similar shade of brown standing beside an older girl with pale blue hair, and at the back, a towering man hid behind a black hood.

When Madeline noticed her looking, she glanced over her shoulder. "Your Grace," she said, motioning to the girl. "This is Phila, one of my knights."

"Phila, it's a pleasure to meet you," she said, quickly shaking the girl's hand.

"The honor is mine, Your Grace," Phila replied.

As they came apart, Captain Madeline then pointed to the man. "I'm sure you've seen Axton before."

"You're my father's executioner," Emmeryn's face lit up at the name. "I'm pleased to meet you."

She held out a hand. The executioner took it carefully, touching her skin so gently it felt like a light breeze.

Emmeryn thought it a little strange, until Captain Madeline explained, "He's a tad reserved. I do hope you won't mind. I can assure you, his work is exceptional, social skills notwithstanding."

"I don't mind at all," Emmeryn said, shaking her head. "If my father placed his trust in you, then I shall as well."

The executioner's only reply was a slow nod. Beside her, the furrow in Tomas' brow deepened. His silence seemed to bother Tomas, but of all the times Emmeryn had caught sight of the executioner in the castle, he'd given her no reason to suspect him.

The boy in front of him, however, was a tad more unfamiliar sight. Nodding her head toward him, Emmeryn said, "And I assume this is your son?"

"Indeed he is." Captain Madeline smiled as she spoke, the most emotion Emmeryn had seen her display, if only by a small margin. She placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "This is Frederick."

In a way, the light in his eyes reminded her of her younger brother. The thought brought a smile to her face as well, and she said, "It's nice to meet you, Frederick."

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well," he replied with all the enthusiasm of his mother.

Turning to Captain Madeline once more, she asked, "Where are you taking him? Not to the front courtyard, I hope"

"Oh no, he's far too young for that."

"That's good." Emmeryn laughed nervously. "I certainly wouldn't want my siblings to attend something so gruesome as an execution."

"What execution?"

What little moisture remained in Emmeryn's throat vanished in an instant. She prayed to Naga she'd only imagined it, but when she turned around, she came face to face with Chrom and Lissa looking up at her innocently.

She had hoped it would never come to this.

All around her, the world fell silent. Someone could have hurled a Thoron spell past her ear, and she wouldn't have noticed.

Emmeryn bit her lip. "Ah... you see..."

"An execution? Does that mean father is back?" Chrom asked, and his eyes lit up in excitement.

"No."

"No?" It hurt her to see the light in his eyes flicker and die. Confusion followed as Chrom's brows pulled down. "But I thought father was the only one who could order executions."

"Not anymore."

"Not anymore?" Chrom's frown deepened. Slowly he put the pieces together. "Is it because you got put in charge?"

"Yes. It is."

"But what will happen when father gets back? What will he say if he returns and finds out you–"

"He won't."

"Are you saying we'll have to lie to him when he gets back?"

"He's not coming back."

Chrom's mouth clamped shut. His eyes widened. "Why not?"

"Why not?" Emmeryn asked. Her question echoed back into her own ears, taunting her with an answer she didn't want to say. "Why not? Because he's... he's de..." She swallowed. "He's gone, Chrom."

"Gone?"

Chrom blinked. A thin layer of moisture fell over his eyes, and in them, Emmeryn saw her own tears reflected back at her.

"No," he muttered. He shook his head, trembling. "No, that's not right! That can't be..."

Suddenly, he pulled Lissa close and held her tight. Emmeryn stepped forward. What she wanted to do, she wasn't sure. Pull them close? Run a hand over their backs and tell them everything would be alright?

When she caught a glimpse of Lissa's face, though, she stopped. Lissa looked so lost, so confused. She couldn't have any idea what was going on. She was only two.

A memory surfaced, one of Lissa coming to her room in the dead of night, bolts of lightning tearing through the dark sky. She looked scared then, but it was nothing compared to the terror on her face right now.

"Why?" Chrom finally whispered.

"Someone killed him, Chrom. Someone took him away from us."

* * *

Lucina tugged on one of the bars. It gave in to her touch, but not nearly enough. Taking the knife in her hand, she moved to hold it up to the metal.

The blade grated against the iron with a screech. The first time she'd heard it, it had given her quite a shock. Now, she did her best to block it out, trying not to grimace as she sawed the knife back and forth. Inch by inch, the knife sunk deeper into the bar until, with one last push, the final bar gave away.

Lucina took the knife to her teeth, biting down on it firmly. She reached up to tug at the bar. It still refused to move any more than an inch, but with a little force, it snapped free.

Lucina glanced down at it, before she tossed it down with the rest, sliding her knife into a fold in the side of her coat. She turned her attention to the window.

Her freedom was tantalizingly close. All she had left to do was haul herself through, and once she was free, she could... she could...

Lucina's train of thought screeched to a halt. What could she do? She had to return to save Aunt Emmeryn from the assassins, but with her father and Aunt Lissa so young, she had no idea how long she would have to wait, or what to do before then.

Thud. Thud.

The sound of footsteps over her head snapped her back into focus. There would be time to think about what she would do later. Right now, she had to get out.

Her hands dug into the cobblestone road above, and she tried to haul herself up. Her arms shook, straining to hold her weight. She pulled harder, but her grasp only became more difficult to maintain until, at last, her fingers slipped, and she fell to the floor.

Her boots crunched against the stone floor. Gritting her teeth, Lucina tried again. She dragged herself up, her feet leaving the floor an inch at a time. The window moved closer, close enough for her to see the street before her.

"Miss Marth! Miss Marth!"

Lucina froze, even before she recognized the voice as her father's. And he sounded scared. Was something wrong?

Before she could decide what to do, the stone slipped out of her grasp. Pain shot up her back as she slammed into the floor, and something sharp bit into her side.

Lucina looked down, running a hand over her coat. When she saw a line of red running down just below her arm, next to where she'd hidden her knife, she figured it must have scraped against her as she'd fallen.

Groaning, Lucina pushed herself up just as Chrom stumbled into view, Lissa just behind him. The first thing she noticed was their panting, like they'd come running for her. She ignored the throbbing at her side and forced herself to move closer to the cell door.

"What happened?" she asked.

Strange was the only way she could describe the expression on Chrom's face. In the week she'd spent with him, he always seemed so cheerful and optimistic, just as she remembered him. Seeing him unhappy, it was a strange contrast to all her happy memories of him. For a second, she feared there might have been something wrong with her.

But... that couldn't be. She hadn't done anything. Had she?

"What happened to my father?" he blurted out.

Lucina took a sharp breath. She glanced at her hands, at all the cuts she'd torn in her gloves from cutting away at her bars, and the little lines of blood scattered beneath. She'd been so busy, it slipped her mind, but his father's blood was on her hands, wasn't it?

"Is something wrong?" she asked instead.

"My sister is holding an execution!"

"I know."

"It's your execution!"

"I know."

"Then why didn't you tell me?" Chrom whined.

Lucina winced. "I... thought you knew?"

"But I didn't! And now my father is never coming back, and you're going to die!" Chrom shook his head wildly. "This has to be some sort of mistake, right? You didn't kill him, you couldn't have! I mean, you're you, and you're not a bad guy! It doesn't make sense!"

"You didn't. Did you?" Lissa asked quietly.

Lucina tore her eye away from Chrom to find Lissa staring up at her intently. Her gaze was pleading, begging. She'd rarely heard her speak, but seeing her now, her eyes alone told Lucina all Lissa could ever say.

Torn between the two of them Lucina drew back.

"I..." She couldn't lie to her father. Not after he'd praised her so much. It would be a betrayal, not only to this version of him, but to all he'd taught her to be in the past. Brave. Determined. Always willing to do the right thing, no matter what got in her way.

"I..." But she didn't want to tell the truth either. It would mean crushing all the faith he had in her right now. She could see the fear in their eyes, how afraid they were that she would say "Yes. I killed your father." It would be the right thing to do, but was it really the best thing to do?

Lucina closed her eye. Her fists clenched by her sides, digging her nails into the cuts scattered over her palms, and her lips tugged down. She took a deep breath.

"No," she said. "No, I didn't do it."

She heard Chrom sigh. She peeked her eye open, and to her relief, she found him smiling once again.

Lucina smiled too, but it felt empty.

"You didn't?" he said, the energy slowly returning to his voice. "I knew it! It couldn't have been you, I just knew it!" Then his eyes widened, his grin fading as quickly as it had appeared. "The execution! They're still going to execute you! I have to tell my sister!"

"There's no need." Giving Chrom a reassuring smile, Lucina's gaze softened. "I already have a plan to get out."

"But if I tell my sister, you won't have to go! You can stay here! You can tell us more stories!"

Stay here? Stay home? Lucina bit her lip. That was something she hadn't even considered. There was nothing she would have wanted more.

But it would all be because of a lie. Emmeryn knew better. From all the conviction she'd shown at her hearing, Lucina didn't think she could be swayed.

"I can't stay." Shaking her head, Lucina tried to hold her lips in place. Tried not to show how much she wanted to say yes. "It's not that I don't want to, but I have people who need me."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do." Reaching through the bars, Lucina ruffled a hand through Chrom's hair, then Lissa's. "I'll miss you, and I promise you I'll come back someday, but right now, I need to go."

"Is that so?"

Lucina didn't think a voice soft like down and gentle like a spring breeze could ever sound so ice-cold, yet as she raised her gaze, it wasn't the only thing to surprise her.

Behind Chrom and Lissa, Emmeryn stood with her arms crossed. And though her mouth betrayed nothing, set in a perfectly flat line, her eyes blazed with fury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little note: I tweaked baby Sumia's dialogue in chapter 3 a bit, specifically the lines about her parents (that was Sumia, in case you couldn't tell). If you don't want to go back and read it again, I'll save you the pain and say that I changed Sumia's sister for her mother, because her mother was dead in the previous version. I went back over her supports, and I decided I wanted to keep her alive.
> 
> And the execution draws closer and closer. Funny enough, I believe this is the longest chapter I've done since the first few fics I wrote. They were a lot worse than this, so I would advise against going back to see if it's true (and they're not on Ao3 anyway). You'll just have to take my word for it.
> 
> I was going to update on Saturday, but as you can see, it didn't happen. My computer died, and I had to wait until it decided it wanted to be alive again. I decided to push back the update date to give me a bit more time to work on this if I need it. From now on, expect updates to come Saturday instead of Tuesday.
> 
> Until then, I wish you all well, and stay safe!


	12. Chapter 12

This was a dream. A very surreal, bizarre dream where the entire world had flipped on its head.

It was the only explanation she had, the only one she could cling to, if only to explain the sight of her dear siblings sitting before the woman who had killed their father.

Yes, that had to be it. Any second now, she would wake to find Tomas standing over her bed, ready to scold her for sleeping so late.

Instead, Chrom came running up to her. "Em, Em!" he said, tugging on her sleeve. "There's been a mistake!"

"A mistake, you say?" Emmeryn muttered. Her words felt foreign coming off her own tongue. "Chrom. Lissa. What are you doing here?"

"I was talking with her!" he said, looking up at her pleadingly. "You can't ek... eggs... you can't kill her! She didn't do anything wrong!"

"She didn't?" Something red and hot bubbled in her. Emmeryn narrowed her eyes, leveling her gaze upon the woman behind bars, and her father's killer looked to the floor, shuffling back.

"She's lying."

* * *

"What?!" Lucina could hear the shock in Chrom's voice, the conviction he'd held seconds ago crumbling away in an instant. She was just glad he couldn't see her wince. "How do you know?"

Emmeryn scowled. "I know because Captain Madeline told me so!"

Turning away from them, Lucina roused her tired muscles into pushing herself off the floor. Her arms trembled beneath her weight, her bones stiff and brittle like glass. It was a battle in itself to keep her eyes open. The effort it took just to drag herself forward felt like it would snap her arms in half, yet she forced herself on.

No matter what, she had to escape. She couldn't die here, not in the confines of her own home.

"But she's wrong! She has to be! Marth would never do anything bad like that!"

"Marth–" Emmeryn cut herself off. Lucina froze, afraid she'd been found out, but when she looked over her shoulder, Emmeryn's gaze was nowhere near her. Releasing the breath she'd held in her chest, Lucina turned back toward the other end of her cell.

Above, she heard footsteps. No doubt the Royal Guard were worried about the Exalt. When Emmeryn arrived alone, she guessed she might have run off from somewhere to find them. Back in her time, Frederick would never have allowed such a thing, so whoever was in charge of the Royal Guard now would be the same.

Her window of opportunity was growing smaller.

Lifting her gaze to the open window above her, Lucina's heart sank when she saw how far she still had left to go. Not only did she have a room to cross, but she also still needed to climb the wall.

A voice in her head told her she would never make it. With how badly her arms ached just from holding her up, the climb would be impossible. There was no way she'd ever make it in time.

But still, she had to try.

"That woman," Emmeryn growled, "is bad, and if she says she isn't, she is lying."

"But why?"

"Because I said so," Emmeryn said, raising her voice. "I'm your big sister, not her. You have to listen to me."

Mustering what little strength she had left, Lucina brought herself to her knees, then to her feet. She took one step forward. Then another. One after the other, step by step. Though her legs threatened to buckle under her with every passing second, she forced her feet to bring her closer to the open window.

Without warning, the cut on her side stabbed her with an invisible knife, and Lucina found herself falling. A pained cry escaped her lips before she could stop it.

"Gah!"

She caught herself before she hit the floor, but the damage was already done.

Emmeryn gasped. Lucina glanced over her shoulder, and she followed her gaze to the open window. A metal weight punched a hole through the bottom of her stomach. Behind her, Lucina could hear footsteps descending the stairs.

"Chrom! Lissa! Get back!" Emmeryn shouted.

Lissa scrambled to her side in an instant. One hand grabbed Chrom's shoulder and yanked him back. The other grasped at Falchion's hilt.

For a moment, Lucina was struck in awe by the image of her Aunt Emmeryn standing before her siblings, Falchion ready to draw. The steel in her eyes spoke of conviction she'd only seen in her father's eyes, and within the depths of her tired mind, she thought, _So that's where father gets it from._

A pair of boots crashed down onto the stone floor over Emmeryn's shoulder. Lucina's eyes widened as the pegasus knight captain tore past Emmeryn. The lock snapped from the force she pulled it off with, and she practically ripped the cell door off its hinges. Lucina barely had time to let out a weak cry before the woman dragged her up by the arm.

Lucina struggled as much as her limbs would allow her. She punched, she hissed, and she flailed, but the pegasus knight didn't so much as flinch as her weak kicks bounced off plate armor, lifting her into the air without trouble.

"Your Grace," she said, not even making any indication she felt Lucina wriggle around in her grasp. "Are you unharmed? I heard a commotion, and I came as fast as I could."

"I'm fine," Emmeryn said, and she let out a sigh of relief. That it came at Lucina's expense brought a bitter feeling to her throat. "Thank you, Captain, but she did not have the chance to harm any of us."

Another pegasus knight stumbled into the room, apologizing profusely, followed by a boy, and a nobleman with bright red hair. None of them Lucina had seen before, none of them holding her attention as the room exploded into commotion.

"What are you doing?" Chrom shouted. "Let go of her!"

He tried to rush forward, but Emmeryn dragged him back. "Chrom."

Chrom threw her hand off his shoulder with an angry hiss. "Let me go! Can't you see you're hurting her?"

"CHROM!"

And in an instant, all the unwavering determination in Emmeryn's eyes came crashing down, leaving an angry little girl in her place.

"Get out!" Emmeryn screamed.

Chrom wilted. Even he was smart enough to realize he'd taken a step too far. "Em," he murmured, "sorry–"

"I said get out!" Her pale blue eyes swept over to the second pegasus knight standing by the door.

Meeting her glare with a nervous nod, the girl cleared her throat. "Your Highnesses. Come with me, your sister wants to be left alone."

"But..." Chrom's gaze flickered over to Emmeryn. When he saw all she had for him was a narrowed gaze, he gulped. "Alright," he mumbled.

With his eyes glued to the floor, he walked back up the stairs. Lissa stayed for a moment longer, shooting a worried look back to Emmeryn, then to Lucina, before the pegasus knight took her hand, and led her up the stairs after her brother. The boy trailed behind them, leaving Lucina alone with Emmeryn, the pegasus knight captain, and the red-haired nobleman.

The moment her siblings were out of sight, Emmeryn's anger evaporated. Her shoulders slumped, and she collapsed against the wall, her hair falling over her face in a messy golden cascade.

They remained like that for a bit. Lucina, dangling by her arm from the hold of the pegasus knight, Emmeryn sitting on the floor across from her. Seeing her aunt like this, Lucina couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy.

She had ordered her execution, of course, and if the way Emmeryn glared at her as if to burn a hole through her chest was any indication, she hated her with a passion. But she couldn't have been older than ten. With responsibilities heavy enough to bring even the strongest men to their knees thrust upon her shoulders before she could hold a sword properly, it was no wonder her decisions did not align with the person she truly was.

In a way, Lucina saw a little of herself in her.

"Your Grace," the pegasus knight captain said. "What would you like me to do with the prisoner?"

Emmeryn blinked, and she slowly lifted her gaze. "Ah. Take her upstairs, to the courtyard."

"As you wish."

"Wait."

Both the pegasus knight captain and Emmeryn glanced down at her. Emmeryn's eyes narrowed, but Lucina kept her gaze steady, refusing to look away for even a moment.

To her surprise, it was the nobleman who broke the silence. "Your Grace, hear this woman out. Whatever it is she has to say, it couldn't hurt to lend an ear."

Whoever this man was, his word seemed to hold some sort of sway over Emmeryn, and she stopped to think. Wordlessly, she looked to the pegasus knight captain for her word.

"I see no harm in it," the pegasus knight captain replied. "Your father was not someone who often turned anyone away for a chance to speak."

Emmeryn let out a sigh, and she slumped further down the wall. "Very well," she said, turning to Lucina. "Speak."

"Em–" Lucina bit her tongue. "Your Grace," she said, correcting herself. "Is this what you truly want?"

"What?" Emmeryn's face twisted into a scowl. "What do you think? You killed my father!"

The impulse to look away was there, but Lucina resisted it, holding her gaze. "But what if I hadn't?"

"What if you..."

"If you're wrong about me, then you won't ever be able to leave it behind."

Suddenly, Emmeryn didn't look so sure. She looked to the pegasus knight captain helplessly.

"It's her," the pegasus knight captain said. "I saw her flee the battlefield with my own eyes. I followed her trail myself."

"You can't know that was mine," Lucina protested. "What if I found her dead and took her clothes?"

"My knights didn't find anything that would suggest that."

"Did you search the village for anything?"

The pegasus knight's silence spoke for her. As she huffed, Emmeryn looked at her, shocked.

"You didn't check?"

"The Plegians were on our tail. We didn't have time. were on our tail, we didn't have time."

_The Plegians followed me?_ Lucina tried not to let her sudden panic show on her face, though with Aunt Emmeryn's attention focused on the pegasus knight now, she hoped they wouldn't notice. _I hope Uncle Robin and his mother are okay._

She shook her head. Now was not the time to get distracted.

"You can't know if you won't regret this," she said. "If you don't think this through, a decision like this will haunt you forever."

"No!" Emmeryn shouted. "You're just saying that. You can't know that."

"But I do." Lucina glanced between the pegasus knight captain and the nobleman, both of whom were staring intently at Emmeryn. "I know how awful it feels to have everyone around you telling you what to do, how terrifying it can feel to have the weight of the world put upon you when you least expect it. Gods know I was too."

"But if you force yourself to do things now, when everything feels like it's falling apart, you won't be able to stand on the choices you make once it's all finally settled down."

"You're just saying that," Emmeryn said again. This time, though, she sounded less sure of herself. "That can't be right, and... and even if it was, I have to do this!"

"Do you? Just because someone else claims it to be the right choice doesn't make it so."

"Then why should I believe you?"

"Because I've already made the same mistakes before, and I know what this path has to offer."

The grip on her wrist tightened, and Lucina winced as her bones pressed together.

"Your Grace," the pegasus knight said, "pay her words no heed. They are simply the ramblings of someone desperate to save their own life."

"I'm not trying to save my own life! I'm trying to save yours!" Erupting into another fit of struggles, Lucina said, "Can't you see how much Chrom hated it? How could you think anyone else would be different?"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Lucina's mouth clamped shut under Emmeryn's burning glare. The pegasus knight did too, and as Lucina watched Emmeryn burn holes into her with her eyes, it finally hit that this Emmeryn was not the woman she'd heard stories told. She was not the serene, forgiving leader who had died for Gangrel's war. She didn't have the same iron-clad moral conviction as she had in the future.

She was a child. She wasn't just afraid, she was terrified beyond reason, like an animal trapped in a corner with no other option than to fight.

Lucina had been mistaken. She wasn't lost. She was ready to attack. Lucina knew how that felt, knew how much the thought of avenging her father would drive her forward.

And she knew how hard it would be to steer her away from that path. It would take time, time she knew she might never get.

"Your Grace," a voice called from upstairs, eroded with age. "Is something the matter?"

An aged man descended the steps, green robes draped over his body, his face adorned with its share of wrinkles.

Lucina remembered him from before; she'd seen him at Emmeryn's side. From the way relief filled her face the moment she saw him, Lucina could tell Emmeryn seemed close to him.

"Tomas," she said quietly, "I... I'm fine. I'll be okay."

Just seeing him appeared to calm her down. The same could not be said for Lucina, her mind whirling a thousand miles a second. She was sure she'd heard the name before.

Tomas. One of Aunt Emmeryn's former advisors, and the man who had handed her over to the waiting blades of the Plegian assassins.

"You!"

All eyes were on Lucina in an instant. Right now, she was too tired to care. Her tired mind could only take in one thing at a time, and it was Tomas who had her full attention.

Maybe it was desperation, or maybe it was spite. Maybe it was a bitter mix of both that seized control of her mouth, but whatever it was had words flying out from her lips like a woman at the end of her wit.

"Why is he here? Why does he stand free? This man is in league with Plegia!"

Emmeryn clamped her hands around her ears. "I'm not listening!" she hissed. "Captain, take her upstairs! Now!"

The pegasus knight captain grunted in reply, her hands full with keeping Lucina tied down. Lucina didn't make it any easier for her, kicking and struggling as the pegasus knight dragged her past Emmeryn, past the nobleman, past Tomas, and through the door.

"Don't trust him!" Lucina yelled. "He'll be the death of you the moment you turn your back!"

* * *

The moment the wretched woman was out of sight, Emmeryn finally let her hands fall to her sides. She sighed, and a heavy weight lifted off her chest.

Tomas working with the Plegians. What a ridiculous thought. Tomas was her teacher and a trusted friend. There was no way he would go behind her back like that.

"The ramblings of someone wanting to save her own life," Emmeryn whispered, repeated Captain Madeline's words to herself. Her eyes followed her trail up the stairs, before they narrowed in anger.

"Maybe."

Startled, Emmeryn glanced back over at Lord Bartholomew. He'd been so quiet, she'd almost forgotten he was there. She thought he'd be mad, or disappointed at the very least, especially with how much he hadn't liked the execution, but all she found on his face was... sadness?

Closing his eyes, the nobleman let out a sigh and shook his head. He didn't say a word as he turned away, and he headed up the stairs in silence.

"Your Grace," Tomas said from beside her. "You don't look well."

"Do I?" Frowning, Emmeryn put a hand to her face. Her skin felt hot, burning with scraps of anger from before.

"I can tell you're dealing with so much. You can't let your people see you like this."

"Can't I?" Emmeryn asked again. "I feel just fine."

"Be it as you may, how do you think your people will think if they saw you like this? You must compose yourself first." Tomas paused. "Or, of course, you could let me run it for you. Take a rest and give me command of the execution."

"No," was her immediate answer.

Compose herself? How could she compose herself when she felt like this? She didn't want to "compose herself". She needed to make sure this woman got what she deserved because this was all her fault.

"So that's how it is," Tomas mumbled.

"Huh?"

Tomas blinked. His gentle smile was back on his face in an instant, and he waved her aside. "Forget you heard that. My mind wandered off for a moment there, it's nothing you need to worry about."

Emmeryn tilted her head, her brows pulled down in concern. In the end, though, there wasn't anything she could do about it, so she smiled back.

"Okay," she said. "Should we go upstairs now?"

"You can go ahead," Tomas replied. "I'll be with you shortly."

Emmeryn nodded. She turned around and headed back toward the door, but as she climbed up, she couldn't shake the feeling that something still wasn't quite right. Not when she could feel someone's gaze drill right into her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A combination of poor time management and tech issues kept me from getting this up for some time, but it's up now, so I'm happy about that.
> 
> Note: Know when to cut chapters down to size, either due to time restraints or just a workload you don't want to heap upon your own shoulders. Sometimes a little break between chapters is a good thing.
> 
> With my only other fic done, I'll try to get the next chapter done in a week. Until then, I wish you all well, and stay safe!


	13. Chapter 13

Mother didn't leave her room very often. Not for food, not for rest, and certainly not for social contact. Miriel was pretty sure she would have starved to death already if she hadn't come every day to feed her.

The only time her mother ever left her room was when she ran out of ink or writing quills. It was a little annoying, especially when she disappeared before Miriel could eat with her. Annoying, but not awful. Miriel was used to it, and she could usually figure out when it was going to happen.

Which was why it was so strange when Miriel pushed open the door to find a full inkwell sitting on her mother's desk, her mother herself nowhere in sight.

Now, Miriel was not a girl who worried a lot. Whenever something bad happened, there was always a reason why. This was just like the time she'd mistook the rats in the hall for a ghost, or the time she'd thought the cloak on her bedpost was a monster trying to eat her. Surely there was no need to worry.

"Mother?" she said.

All she heard was silence.

Turning around, Miriel poked her head out the door to scan the hall. "Mother?" she said again.

She still received no response.

So she wasn't in her room, and she wasn't anywhere nearby. That would be fine, but the stationary closet was just around the corner, and if she wasn't there...

Where was she?

Closing the door behind her, Miriel did the only thing she knew to do in the situation: she set her tray beside her, and she sat down to wait.

As the servants passed by her, a few stopped to give her odd looks. Miriel ignored them. They weren't her mother. When her mother returned, they would eat together, and her mother would teach her all about–

An odd scrap of blue passed her vision. Miriel looked up just in time to see her mother stride past, a bundle of quills gripped tightly within her arms.

Miriel looked at her, then looked back at the door. As her mother disappeared around the corner, she frowned. The door to her room was clearly next to her. Why would she miss it?

Unless something was wrong.

Jumping to her feet, her food forgotten for the moment, Miriel took off after her.

"Mother," she said as soon as she'd caught up, "what is the matter?"

Her mother didn't reply, clearly too wrapped up in her thoughts to hear her. Whatever it was, it must have been bad.

Miriel decided to stay quiet. Her mother didn't like it when people interrupted her thoughts, after all.

Not that anyone else cared. Turning corners, walking through courtyards, wherever she and her mother went, people stopped to watch. When they passed, they whispered to each other, as if her mother was a strange animal out of her cage.

Miriel thought it was rude of them, but she didn't question her mother, not until they stopped at a balcony looking out into the city.

Overhead, the sun scorched the deck with its blinding light. Mother hated the sun, so much so that the other children incorrectly believed she was some sort of creature of the night, yet this time she stepped out without so much as a second thought.

Miriel trailed after her to the ledge. As her mother peered over it, Miriel pulled herself higher to do the same. A large crowd had gathered in the square just down the road and stood upon a wooden platform in the middle, a chocolate-haired woman Miriel recognized as the Captain of the Pegasus Knights reached out over the townsfolk, her voice muffled by the distance.

Even so, Miriel had seen enough of these to know what it was.

"Mother, why are they holding an execution? Does this have something to do with Uncle Alabaster?" she asked. She looked to her mother for answers, but her mother's eyes were dead set on the courtyard below.

"No. Not him," she muttered.

Confused, Miriel followed her gaze to what as very clearly a woman standing just behind the platform, her arms tied behind her back. Long strands of blue hair blocked her face from view, but Miriel thought she could still make out large splotches on her coat.

"It can't be him," her mother mumbled again. "Too much of her blood. Too close to her line." She paused. "Unless..."

"Unless what?" Miriel asked, only growing more confused by the second.

"Unless unless..."

Suddenly, her mother fell silent. The corners of her lips clawed their way up the side of her face inch by inch, and her lips peeled back into a smile.

In her arms, her bundle of quills broke in two.

"Hah. Ha ha ha." Her mother took a step back from the ledge, grinning from ear to ear. "Insanity," she whispered. "Absolutely ludicrous. Simone, you've finally lost it, you gullible little girl. Ha ha. And to think, for a moment, he could have won. To think..."

"Mother, what's wrong? You're not making any sense!"

Her mother giggled once more, and without warning, her legs snapped like twigs beneath her weight.

Miriel's eyes flew wide, her mouth hanging open. Fear held her heart in its crushing grip, holding her in place at the sight of her mother lying motionless on the floor.

Her reason only caught up with her body a second later. Her legs were the first to move, bending down so her arms could reach for her mother's side. Then her lungs took in a shuddering breath, forcing her heart to start again until, at last, words began to form in her mouth.

"Help!" she cried out. "Somebody help!"

In the halls behind her, she could hear the servants who had heard her call rushing out. As they gathered around to lift her mother in their arms, by accident, Miriel glanced back over to the courtyard.

No one down there had seen anything at all, too focused on the pegasus knight captain to even notice her. That is, no one but the girl with the blue hair.

Miriel could feel her gaze on her and only her. Almost as if she knew something Miriel didn't.

The servants could not have dragged her back inside fast enough.

* * *

Lucina could feel everyone's eyes on her. No matter where she looked, someone was watching her. The people in the crowd, the few knights stationed around them, even the castle itself looming in the distance, all of them staring at her, judging her.

Some looked at her in curiosity, others in anger. A few regarded her in fear.

She tore her eyes away quickly. What they thought of her didn't matter, she tried to tell herself. They had no idea what she had been through, what this was all for.

Vaguely she was aware of the pegasus knight captain speaking on the stage. Though she had her fair share of attention, most of it was on the captain.

Surely no one would notice if she slid the blade hidden in her sleeve into her hand.

Trying not to wince at the pain of metal cutting into her skin, Lucina started to furiously saw away at the ropes binding her hands together. She didn't have time to take it slow, not like she did with the cell bars. Her time was running out, and if they saw her now, well, she would be dead either way.

"–bring the prisoner down to the block!"

Lucina froze. For a moment, she feared she might have been caught, but when she looked up at her, the pegasus knight's eyes were on the executioner behind her.

"Don't look at me, it was a last-minute decision," the pegasus knight captain hissed.

Lucina heard the executioner grunt. Her fingers closed around the knife as he dragged her to her feet, and he began to lead her forward.

The pegasus knight captain stepped down from the platform as they approached, and as she walked past, Lucina caught her muttering, "Now where in Ylisse has Helena run off to now?"

Once she was sure she was out of sight, Lucina continued to cut at her bindings. As more and more people turned to look at her, she prayed to Naga none of them would happen to glance down at her hands.

There was no cry of alarm. No one so much as made a peep over the dull droning of the crowd, even as they neared the stage. Lucina's hands worked faster with each step. She tried to keep her eyes as far away from her hands as possible, when she noticed the metal glint of an arrowhead perched over the crowd aimed at the pegasus knight captain's back.

"Look out!"

Her body moved on her own. Without thinking, Lucina threw herself in front of the arrow's path. The executioner growled, dragged along with her, and the knife fell from her hands.

But the arrow never came.

"What…" Lucina's eyes widened, and she quickly realized everyone's eyes were now focused on her. If they weren't looking before, they were now. With all this attention, there could be no more hiding the knife at her feet.

The executioner didn't so much as give her a word before he continued to pull her along.

Lucina tried not to cry out in despair, regretting her mistake immediately. She had no reason to save the pegasus knight captain. She didn't even know who she was, so what would she care if she took an arrow to the back?

She was so stupid. Her friends had always told her that her tendency to rush headfirst into action without a second thought would get her killed, and as the executioner forced her down against the chopping block, it finally hit her that her mistake had just cost her her life.

Turning to face the side, Lucina caught Emmeryn's gaze by chance, the captain and the red-haired nobleman from before by her side, Falchion strapped to her hip. She saw Emmeryn's eyes widen, saw the conflict that flashed within them. In the end, Emmeryn turned away, leaving Lucina to her fate alone.

No.

No, Lucina had not come all this way just to die by her grandfather's executioner. Even as the executioner grabbed his axe, she struggled in his grasp. No matter how hopeless it seemed, no matter how tired she was, giving up was not an option. She would escape, or she would die trying.

This would not be the end.

She would change fate.

The axe raised, blade gleaming in the afternoon sun. Lucina clenched her eyes shut.

Thunk.

Steel clattered over the cobblestone. Before her, the crowd gasped in surprise. Surprise quickly morphed into terrified screams, and Lucina opened her eyes just in time to see a volley of arrows rain down upon the courtyard, striking against the floor, the walls around them, and the few unlucky civilians standing in their way.

With the executioner's weight no longer keeping her down, Lucina craned her neck over to see Emmeryn rush to the fallen man's side, an arrow buried in his shoulder. The pegasus knight captain and the guards scrambled to assemble before her with their weapons drawn, Lucina momentarily forgotten.

As the crowd thinned in its panicked frenzy, who else would step through but a familiar man in green, his own regiment of knights by his side, twice as large as Emmeryn's own guard.

"Tomas!" Emmeryn cried. "What is the meaning of this?"

From the shock clear on her face, it was obvious she hadn't listened to a word Lucina had said. Tomas had, though, if the furious look he was directing at her was any indication, and for a moment, Lucina felt a twinge of guilt for it.

Because of her, he had ended up turning against her years too early.

"I'm so sorry, Your Grace," he spat in reply. "I never wanted it to come to this, but this halidom needs direction if we are to continue to stand our ground against Plegia, direction only I can provide."

"Tomas, please!" Emmeryn begged. "I don't want to fight. Don't do this."

The man scoffed. "I have no other choice. Your father never listened to a word I said. I thought I might have trained you to be wiser, but it seems if I want to have my way, drastic measures must be taken."

Emmeryn shook her head vigorously. "No, you're wrong! If you had just told me, I would have listened!"

"Not with her at your ear." With a sneer, Tomas leveled an accusing finger at the pegasus knight captain.

His knights charged forward with a roar.

* * *

Emmeryn's eyes widened as Tomas's soldiers rushed toward them. Their weapons shone wickedly in the sun, each and every one of them capable of killing someone as the people holding them yelled out for her blood.

"Guards!" Captain Madeline barked. "Protect the Exalt!"

A wall of shields rose before them to meet the advancing line of knights. Steel struck against steel with a horrible screech, and the square erupted into chaos. Blades thrown in every direction. Men and women crying out as steel swords and lances found their mark between gaps of armor.

Just seeing it made Emmeryn feel sick.

A rough hand caught her before she could fall, jolting her back to reality. Captain Madeline gave her an assuring pat on the shoulder, and she pushed her back toward Lord Bartholomew.

"You!" she said, leveling her gaze at the red-haired nobleman. "Grab her Grace and retreat into the streets."

Lord Bartholomew nodded, but as he reached for Emmeryn, she pulled away.

"What about the executioner?" she asked, and she glanced down at his fallen form in concern. "We can't just leave him here."

"The executioner?" Captain Madeline followed her gaze, and she made a sound when she saw him groaning at her feet.

Her shock was short-lived, and she barely made a sound as she dragged the larger man and hefted him over her shoulder.

"Come now," she said, and she nodded back to the street leading to the castle. "I'm not sure how much longer the royal guard can hold the line. We must make haste if we are to–"

"Arrows!" the prisoner blurted out.

The captain cursed and spun around. Another volley of arrows took to the sky from the courtyard. They rained down on the nights like hailstones, bouncing harmlessly of their thick armor. They didn't stop there, though, zipping past the knights and peppering the cobblestone like an ocean wave drawing closer with each passing second.

"Take cover!" Without another word, the captain threw herself and the prisoner behind one of the buildings. The nobleman followed, tucking Emmeryn into an alleyway behind him as a storm of arrows poured onto the street where they had been moments ago.

"Captain Madeline!" Emmeryn cried over the sounds of fighting. "W-what do we do?"

Captain Madeline gritted her teeth. Letting go of the prisoner, she poked her head out and glanced back down the street.

"They've got us badly outnumbered," she said. "I don't think the royal guard will be able to hold for much longer."

Fear squeezed Emmeryn's chest tight. "What?!"

"We'll never make it back to the castle in time, not while we're within range of their archers. Gods dammit, where are our own archers?"

"Tomas must have sent them away," the nobleman replied. "I thought it suspicious how much of the royal guard were being sent out on patrol."

"Why couldn't you have stopped them, then?"

"By the time I realized, it was far too late for me to do anything about it!"

"Please stop it!" Emmeryn shouted, and she stepped between them. "I don't want you to fight too!"

The captain and the nobleman paused. Exchanging glances, a silent message passed between them.

The nobleman let his shoulders fall with a sigh. "My apologies, now is not the time to be bickering."

"My apologies as well," the captain said. "Right now, our main priority should be to find a way to seek aid."

An alarmed shout came from one of the knights. The captain peeked out onto the street, before she reached back and shoved Emmeryn away.

"Get back!"

No sooner had the words left her lips, an axe swept across the entrance to the alleyway. It cut through the wooden beams supporting the buildings on either side. A great knight towered above them, his blue armor shining in the afternoon sun.

The bright red emblem shone brightly on his breast, depicting a pattern of swirls, one Emmeryn recognized immediately.

Captain Madeline reached down to her side. From a sheathe at her hip, she pulled out a dagger. Emmeryn watched as, with a cry, she charged at a man almost twice her size. His axe came down, only to meet nothing but air.

Bits of stone showered the street as the knight's axe crashed into the side of a house. Captain Madeline slid under his blow, and she thrust her dagger toward his back.

Her face impacted the back of an armored elbow with a crack. Emmeryn gasped as Captain Madeline fell, one hand to her jaw. The knight wrenched his axe free. He spun around and, without missing a beat, raised his axe again.

Emmeryn's hand fell to the sword at her side. She hadn't a clue how to use it, but she had to do something!

As it turned out, she didn't need to worry.

"Flux!"

A cloud of dark magic purple exploded over the back of his head. The knight's head jerked down. He grunted, more from the hit than from any real pain, but it was enough to send him stumbling forward. Right into the tip of the captain's waiting dagger.

There was a crunch. A spurt of blood. The captain tore her weapon out from beneath his helmet, and he collapsed into a heap beside them.

Seeing the growing pool of red beneath him, Emmeryn's hands flew to her mouth. Her lunch threatened to fly out. She had to distract herself, so she fixed her eyes on the crest he wore instead.

"House Redwind," she muttered, shaken. "I know that crest. These are House Redwind's soldiers. What are they doing here?"

"I'm sure Lord Reginus can give us an explanation after this, but right now, we have more pressing matters at hand." Sliding her dagger back into its sheathe, Captain Madeline yelled, "Men, fall back!"

She grabbed the prisoner again, dragging both her, Lord Bartholomew, and Emmeryn out onto the street. Once again, arrows took to the sky, but the captain pressed them up against the retreating knights, staying behind their cover.

Once the arrows stopped, and they had a moment to breathe, Captain Madeline turned to Lord Bartholomew. "You know magic?"

"I've dabbled."

"What tomes do you have on you?"

The nobleman huffed, patting down his pockets. "A flux tome, a fire tome, and a wind tome."

"Do you think you could boost me up on the roof with a wind spell? If I can get up there, I should be able to track down the nearest patrol."

That gave Lord Bartholomew a pause. He glanced up at the rooftops high above, and his eyes narrowed.

"I think I can," he said after a moment of thought, and from his robes, he produced a blue-green tome.

"Captain Madeline, wait!" Emmeryn said, and she grabbed at the captain's arm. "Don't go! We'll die without you!"

The captain hesitated. She shuffled her feet, and for a moment, she almost seemed uncomfortable. "You'll be safe," she said, and she placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "I won't be long, so... don't you worry about it."

Snapping her attention back to the nobleman, she said, "Blast me up."

"Right now?"

"Of course I mean right now. We haven't got time to dawdle like this!"

The captain jumped. The nobleman flung a blast of wind at her feet. Emmeryn kept her eyes on Captain Madeline as she flew over the rooftops. A few arrows whizzed past her, but Captain Madeline ducked and wove through them, and before Emmeryn could blink, she had disappeared.

Leaving Emmeryn alone with a battle raging on behind her, and the weight of everyone's lives in her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on updating Saturday, but a combination of tech issues and me just not getting enough sleep pushed the chapter back a little.
> 
> Anyway, chapter 13. This is as far as the old version went, so hitting it again is quite the milestone. I'm hoping to have another chapter by Saturday, but if my computer decides it doesn't want that, well, c'est la vie.
> 
> Until then, I wish you all well, and stay safe!


	14. Chapter 14

"Fall back!"

A panicked shout rose from the knights. Like a wave of armor, the seventeen of them remaining scrambled away from the bright red flames splattered over the road. Against magic, their armor would offer little protection, and it showed from the way they pushed back, forcing her, Emmeryn, and the nobleman away as well amidst a storm of hands and elbows.

"Mage!" someone yelled.

Lucina didn't think that needed saying, not as she watched another Elfire spell arc through the air and crash into their ranks. Flames scorched against their armor. As the front line stumbled, Tomas' knights were quick to charge in.

Lances and shields flew left and right. Blades scraped against plates of heavy armor with a horrible screech. Splotches of red marked steel spearheads whenever they found their mark, and as the Royal Guard finally pulled away, among the dead, Lucina caught a glimpse of another dead guardsman among the corpses.

Only sixteen remained. Emmeryn was going to lose.

Lucina didn't have to be as sharp as Uncle Robin to realize that. Only the best knights made it into the Royal Guard, that she had no doubts about, but the Redwind knights held the advantage of sheer numbers. Out here on the streets, they would be whittled down one by one until they were too tired to defend themselves.

Being badly outnumbered was nothing she hadn't faced before, but there wasn't much she could do, tied up as she was.

"Untie me."

"What?" Emmeryn's gaze snapped onto her, absolutely appalled by the suggestion.

Lucina met her eyes, unwavering in the face of Emmeryn's burning glare. She'd hate the idea, Lucina knew, but amidst that fear, she caught that same flicker of fear and panic she'd seen down in the dungeon.

"I'm–" Lucina hissed as another Elfire spell tore into the road, the force of the blast blowing a gust through the line of knights. "I'm no stranger to uphill battles," she said. "Set me free, and I'll gladly join your side."

"No," Emmeryn said, clenching her fists. "No! I don't need your help!"

Lucina's eye narrowed. Leaning as far as her bonds allowed her to, Lucina looked Emmeryn in the eye. "You're badly outnumbered and outmatched, and you don't have a clue what to do."

"I... I do!"

"Do you?"

"Yeah!" Emmeryn's shoulders lifted, and she rose to the challenge. "Tomas! He taught me all about it! War and stuff."

"And where is Tomas now?" Lucina said, nodding back toward where she'd last seen him. "Your Grace. He is trying to kill you."

"Kill me?" Emmeryn looked taken aback. Shaking her head, she said, "No. No, Tomas would never do that!"

"That's not what it looks like to me."

"That's because you don't know him!" Lucina's eye widened. She leaned back as Emmeryn stepped toward her, her gaze burning with anger. "You don't know him at all! Tomas–he served under my father for over forty years! Not for one of those years has he ever taken a day to stop working, not even when he was sick, and he has been by my side for my entire life. He is patient, he is wise, he is everything I need to be–"

"And you don't know a thing about him either."

Emmeryn froze. "What?"

"You heard me. You don't know a thing about him."

"No, you're wrong!"

"Then who is he?"

"He's my teacher, and my father's loyal advisor!"

"And?"

"And he taught me everything I know!"

"And?"

"And... And he served under my father for over forty years," she said again. This time, though, she sounded less sure.

"A person can hide a lot in forty years," Lucina shot back.

A voice in the back of her head told her to stop, told her to be patient. The girl in front of her was nothing more than that: a girl.

But Lucina had spent the last week being patient, and she was done with it. Here and now, this was her last chance to get through to Emmeryn, and by the Gods she was going to take it and run as far as she could go.

"You can know a person for their entire life. You can think the world of them, look up to them from as far back as you could remember, but if you never get the chance to truly know them, they won't hesitate to leave you for dead the first chance she gets."

Someone cried out. Another blast of fire magic licked the floor, another body hit the floor. Fifteen left.

Again, the Redwind knights surged forward. Firelight trickled through the line of knights defending them, casting Emmeryn's face in a red glow.

Emmeryn's shoulders fell. Doubt swam in the glossy moisture over her eyes, and for a moment, a pang of guilt passed through Lucina's heart. She needed Emmeryn to see she had no other option but to set her free, but seeing her like this: directionless and confused.

She really was more like her than she'd have ever thought.

"Emmeryn," she said, softer now, "you need to face things as they are. If you don't, and if Tomas does kill you, who do you think he'll go after next?"

Emmeryn turned away.

"Captain Madeline said she was going to get help. She'll be back, she has to!"

"And what will you do until then?"

"...I don't know."

"If you don't want to die, you need to use every advantage you have. Be willing to do whatever it takes to stay out of reach, no matter the cost. Right now, I'm willing to help you out if you'll set me free, your father's killer or not. What will you do, Your Grace?"

"I... I'll win this." Emmeryn pushed her away with a scowl. "I'll win this, and I'll do it without your help. You'll see."

* * *

Emmeryn couldn't see how she won this. She had learned battle tactics from Tomas, that was no lie, but learning about it and actually having to do it were two different things. Everywhere she looked was a mess of steel, fire, and blood. All the shouting, all the noise was invading her head, cutting her thoughts to ribbons.

She couldn't think like this!

"Lord Bartholomew!" she asked desperately. "What do I do?"

"Your Grace, I–" The nobleman but himself off to hurl another Flux spell at the enemy. "Your Grace, I am hardly the sharpest when it comes to battle tactics."

"Please, can't you try?"

That gave him a pause. Ducking behind cover, Lord Bartholomew looked all around them. His red eyes scanned over the brawling knights, the scorched cobblestone road, before finally stopping at the homes towering over them.

"The walls." He pointed up at them. "We have to bring them down."

Emmeryn followed his gaze, and her eyes widened. Of course! She'd been so dumb not to think of that. "If they can't reach us, we can still win!" Then she paused. "But... everyone else won't like it."

"Your Grace, I don't believe we should be worried about that right now! If we are to survive, we must push through!"

 _No matter the cost,_ the prisoner's words burned in her mind. Emmeryn glanced back at her from the corner of her eye. Her brows were pulled down, watching carefully.

Was this what she was looking for?

"We can't," Emmeryn said

"What?"

"We can't!" she said again, louder. "There has to be another way! Or... or–"

"Arcfire!"

Another blast cut her off. She flinched and looked away. Wind rushed past her face, blowing her hair to the side. Heat washed over her. All around, weapons clattered to the side as a bright orange painted the walls.

Emmeryn pulled her arm away from her face to see the hole blown wide open in the line of Royal Guards. Three more bodies littered the floor.

She froze. The entire battlefield was in her view, from the knights throwing themselves against the Royal Guard, to the fires raging in the streets. The tips of a dozen arrowheads returned her gaze through the cracks.

And they were headed straight for her.

"Your Grace! Look out!" Lord Bartholomew lunged for her. He reached out his hand, but he was too far away to reach her.

Something bit down on her arm. Emmeryn barely had time to gasp, barely had time to think as she was dragged down to the floor.

The arrows flew overhead just as her back slammed into the road. She looked over her shoulder to see the prisoner, her teeth clamped around her arm.

She'd saved her. Against everything she had done, she'd still saved her life.

"Lord Bartholomew!" Emmeryn yelled, words tumbling out of her mouth as fast as they could as her heart pounded in her chest. "Bring down the walls!"

* * *

Trails of dark magic hurled through the air, curling clouds of purple haze around walls of stone and wooden support beams. One, two, then three blasts struck the buildings around them.

Dust hailed onto the streets. Cracks split the wooden beams down the middle, crawling higher and higher until, with a groan, the walls came crashing down in a torrent of bricks and splinters.

Panicked shouts rose from the knights as a thick cloud of dirt swallowed them up. One by one, Royal Guards stumbled back into a line of ten. The Redwind knights did the same through the smoke. Between them, a field of rubble blocked the road.

Lucina breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, the noise stopped. For a moment, she could breathe.

Why Emmeryn hesitated to bring down the walls, she wasn't sure.

Something twitched in her mouth. Lucina looked down, and it was then that she remembered she had yet to let go of Emmeryn's arm.

As soon as she spat it out, the girl wiped her sleeve over her shirt.

Lucina took the chance to ask, "Are you unharmed?"

"I... I think so," Emmeryn said, and she looked herself up and down.

As she did her eyes strayed back to the Royal Guards muttering uneasily in front of them. A delicate hand, so clearly untouched by the harsh world, came up to brush a stray strand of hair out of her eye. A trickle of blood passed over her pale skin, unnoticed.

"Please, let me help," Lucina said. When Emmeryn glanced back at her, she could still see a faint flicker of fear pass through her eyes, but she didn't shy away as she had before.

It was something.

"Help me?" she muttered. "Why... why would you help me? You killed–you killed my father."

"We're all in this together, aren't we?"

Emmeryn's mouth opened. Then it closed. Emotions flashed across her face, confusion, surprise, anger.

Lucina could already see the answer forming on her lips: a firm denial. She winced and looked away. Maybe she'd pushed too hard?

"I don't know," Emmeryn said instead.

Lucina blinked, surprised. When she turned her head up, Emmeryn moved her gaze away.

"I just don't know." Her fists clenched.

"Emmeryn. Trusting me is your only choice right now," Lucina said.

"Trust you?"

"Yes," Lucina nodded. "I can help you. I want to help you."

"You... you want to help me?" Emmeryn glanced at the rope binding Lucina's arms. She tore her eyes away almost instantly, but Lucina had seen her look, she had seen her consider. "No. No, I'm not going to–"

Then someone cried out. "Backup! We need backup!"

Emmeryn's eyes widened, and she snapped her attention across the field of rubble. Lucina followed her gaze. Just on the other side, a pair of Royal Guards stood back to back, their lances brandished against the countless Redwind knights surrounding them.

The Redwind knights descended upon them like a flock of wyverns.

"Joseph!" One of the Royal Guards on their side reached a hand out despairingly. "Hold on, I'm coming for you!"

"Wait! Don't go!" Emmeryn tried to say, but her small voice dwindled before it could reach their ears.

A knight broke away, running into the field of rubble with a shout. Another followed, then another. Emmeryn could do nothing to stop them, her protests too weak to reach their ears as one by one, the line dissolved into a half-hearted charge.

"Elfire!"

Then the fireballs started hailing from the sky.

Someone screamed, flung into the air by a wave of fire. A cloud of dust scattered over the ground, and ten became nine. Two of the guards gave a panicked shout. Armored feet kicked through the rubble, men scrambling to duck behind cover. Most of them managed to avoid being hit. A few of them weren't so lucky.

Guard number nine flew back, his chestplate bent by the heat. Another blast threw guards eight and seven into a wall, plates of their armor ripped apart.

And Emmeryn watched, helpless to act as everything fell apart.

"I'll do it," she blurted out. She fixed her gaze on Lucina, resolved. "I'll set you free."

Falchion let out a silky hiss as it drew free from its sheath. Lucina trailed after it with her eye, and, without a word, raised her bindings to Emmeryn.

With a single swipe, Falchion's blade cleaved the rope in two. The cord flopped to the floor, and as Lucina rubbed the red marks on her wrist, she shot Emmeryn a grateful look.

"Thank you," she bowed her head. "I promise you won't regret this."

"Please, just protect me already!" Emmeryn said, waving her hand behind her.

"Of course!" Without a moment to lose, Lucina jumped to her feet.

An Elfire spell slammed into her chest before she could take a step, and a blistering heat tore into her skin.

* * *

Emmeryn watched in horror as the girl tumbled past her, her clothes a burning mess, before coming to a sudden stop over the wall with a sickening crunch.

Emmeryn looked back across the field. Tomas's grin was there to meet her, wrinkled and just the tiniest bit crooked.

She'd never seen that look on his face before. It scared her.

"Elfire!"

His arm thrust toward her. Fire erupted from his fingertips. Her eyes wide, she stood frozen as the flickering streak of fire got bigger by the second, her feet stuck to the floor and her fingers squeezing the hilt of the sword in her hands.

He was really trying to kill her.

Falchion swept up to protect her, batting the attack away with a sputtering sound. The force almost ripped her hands off her arms.

Tomas didn't stop there. Of course he wouldn't. Spell after spell hurled itself at Falchion, each one coming closer than the last to tearing it from her grasp. With each step back, Emmeryn glanced around wildly, searching for someone who could save her, anyone who could save her.

Among the rubble, the Royal Guard struggled against the oncoming wave of knights as they surged through, and six became five. Lord Bartholomew was huddled down not even twenty feet away, a fallen wooden beam the only thing between him and a shower of arrows. And behind her, the girl from before lay sprawled across the street, the slow rise of her chest the only sign she was still alive.

Another fireball slammed into Falchion's blade. Red hot strings curled around the metal, flicking sparks into her arms. Without meaning to, her hands let go. Falchion hurled away, far from her reach, and bounced off the girl's unconscious body.

Her gaze snapped to Tomas. His scary grin grew wide, drawing her heart up into her chest. His hand raised one last time. Orange sparks danced in her eyes.

"Wait!" she yelled.

Tomas looked back with a scowl. His hand closed around the half-formed spell, snuffing it out with a hiss.

"Wait?" he snarled. "I've waited forty years for this chance, and I've had enough. I refuse to wait another second, not for you to listen, and certainly not for you to burn away."

"You can't!" Blinking away the faintest trace of wetness, Emmeryn shook her head. "Tomas, please just wait! Can't you remember all the time I spent with you? Does all that mean nothing to you? Do I mean nothing to you?"

"No."

It hurt to hear that. Like a fist buried into her stomach, it left her reeling. But she refused to look away.

"You have served your purpose. I have no need for you now." The corners of his lips twitched up. "But, it doesn't have to end in your death. If you surrender now, I'll let you and your family leave with your lives. A much more pleasant idea, wouldn't you agree?"

Emmeryn stopped. They couldn't leave. If they left, where could they go? Who could keep them safe?

"No. We can't leave."

Tomas just sighed. "A shame."

He tucked his sleeves in. Unfurled his hands. He flicked his arm out, and with a shout of "Elfire!" sent one last fireball toward her.

A snap cut through the air, magic meeting metal. Wisps unfurled out from the touch. A faint trail of smoke clutched weakly to life, and with a faded crackle, vanished in the breeze.

Emmeryn opened her eyes. A single blue eye looked back, a storm of green shimmering and twisting inside them. Fierce, heavenly power radiated from inside.

Her cape fluttering behind her, her deep blue hair flowing like a river, the girl stood guard, her lips set in an unbreakable line. Though patches of her clothes had burned away and scorched lines ran down her chest, Emmeryn could see no wear in her skin. It was as if the spell, the same one she had seen send her flying, had never touched her.

Before her, Falchion glowed brightly.

* * *

Tomas's eyes grew to the size of the moon, his mouth agape.

"That's–that's not possible!" he stuttered. "You–how did you–Only members of the Royal bloodline can wield that blade. Just who are you?"

"I," Lucina growled, her voice seeping with power, "am Marth."

A shout tore from her lips as she charged.

That seemed to shock Tomas back into action. He fumbled back. His hands scrambled to pry open the tome in his hands, and the spell's incantation burst out from his lips.

"Elfire!"

Again, a bolt of magic erupted from his hands. Lucina cut through it, and again, it fizzled away.

She could feel her wounds closing with every step she took. Energy surged through her, and as the burns spread over her skin faded into a cool touch, her muscles, tired and weary not moments before, rushed to life.

Tomas only grew more desperate. He stumbled, he tripped, and he kept moving back, anything to get away from her.

"Elfire!" he cast again.

Lucina swiped it away with ease.

"Elfire!"

His attack flung itself straight into the path of Falchion's gleaming blade.

"A-archers!" he screamed, a third spell forming in his hands. "Shoot her! Shoot her!"

Over his shoulder, Lucina saw a group of archers aim at her. Their arrows drew back on the bowstring. She twisted her blade to the side, watching and waiting for them to make their move.

The first archer lurched forward. His bow clattered to the ground. He reached a hand up, pawing pathetically at his back, before his face struck the floor, a bright yellow javelin impaled through him.

The archers, seeing one of their own fall, spun around as fast as they could. Lucina, on the other hand, couldn't say she had ever been happier to see the Pegasus Knights drop down from the sky, shredding the archers before they could let their arrows fly like a giant white beast.

A flash of red entered her view. A Redwind knight, clutching his side, staggered into her path. Specks of blood dribbled over the floor as he wrenched his lance free from another knight's chest. She didn't slow down for him. By the time he saw her coming, it was too late.

A single silver line drew through the air. Falchion cut through armor, flesh, and bone. As the knight's body toppled to the floor, Lucina pushed on through.

With the archers gone, the Pegasus Knights turned their weapons to the Redwind knights. Lances rained down as if they were carried by hurricane winds. They struck against armor, plowed lines through the debris. Split between the dwindling Royal Guard and the Pegasus Knights, the Redwind knights could do nothing to defend themselves against the onslaught.

One by one, steel spearheads found their mark through the armor. One by one, the Redwind knights fell.

But Lucina only had eyes for Tomas.

His foot caught on a stone. The spell he cast flew over Lucina's head. In his other hand, the Elfire tome crumpled, its rich red cover turning to an ashen grey.

"Mercy!" Tomas shrieked.

His cry fell on deaf ears. Lucina leaped forward with a shout. She leveled Falchion's tip over his chest, and she thrust it forward.

Tomas hurled the expired tome at her. The spine slammed into her, and the last traces of magic grazed her chest. A pained grunt slipped through her lips. A cool feeling pooled over her wound and, in seconds, it was gone.

It hadn't hurt, but it had been enough to throw her off. She slipped, barely keeping Falchion from flying out of her grip.

Above her, she saw Tomas reach into his robes and pull out an Arcfire tome. Tongues of fire licked his hands. A blinding yellow light burst to life over the palm of his hand.

A silver tip pierced through his chest. Eyes wide, Tomas glanced down at the blood oozing through his robes. He took in a shuddering breath. With a cough, his legs gave out, leaving him to collapse onto the floor.

And Lucina found herself standing before the Pegasus Knight captain, towering over her with a bloodied lance.

* * *

"Your Grace, are you safe!?"

Lord Bartholomew rushed to her side the moment all was calm once again. He reached for her, before he stopped, thought better of it, and looked her over instead. She could see his worried gaze scan over her, feel it stop at every dirty smudge on her yellow robes.

"I'm fine," she said, brushing it off. She could worry about how she looked like later; what she was worried about right now was the girl who had saved her. She had lost sight of her right after she...

She...

Her eyes drifted over to the armored body sprawled over the ground. Just the sight of it made her sick, and yet she couldn't look away.

Emmeryn had seen the girl slice through a man with Falchion like it was nothing. It should have glanced harmlessly off his armor; Falchion would not cut for anyone not a part of the royal family.

And yet, it had cut for this girl.

"Lord Bartholomew," she whispered. "You don't think she could be..."

The nobleman followed her gaze, and when he saw the body, he shuddered. "I... I don't know. There's a slim chance–a very slim chance, but I'm afraid I can't say for sure."

Someone cried out. It took Emmeryn a second to recognize the voice, and when she did, she gasped. Emmeryn ran forward, pushing through the few remaining Royal Guard as she stepped over the mounds of debris.

She found Captain Madeline sitting over a pile of stone bricks, a stunned expression on her face. In her hands, she held a headless silver lance. She almost cried with relief.

Falchion stood to her right, its blade plunged into the ground.

"Captain Madeline!" she said, coming to a stop by her side. "Where is she?"

"Ah... where is who?"

"The girl! Marth!"

Captain Madeline blinked. "She pushed me down and ran. Where to, I can't say." She started at her broken weapon, then over to Falchion. "Your Grace. I hope you don't mind me asking, but... who is she?"

"That's what I need to ask her!" Emmeryn looked up at her with pleading eyes. "Captain Madeline, you have to find her!"

Captain Madeline blinked back. Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet. Her steps were unsteady as she moved through the rocky terrain, her hand raised to catch the attention of the pegasus knights hovering overhead. As her armor shifted with her gait, Emmeryn caught sight of a few cuts running over her arms.

With Captain Madeline gone, Emmeryn lowered herself into her seat. She let her gaze run over Falchion, its blade gleaming brightly in the sun, and as she did, she noticed Tomas's body lying just beyond it.

It didn't feel real. She didn't want it to be real. A part of her brain refused to believe this was real. If she just reached over and touched it, it would vanish, and the real Tomas would appear at her side, comforting her, telling her everything would be okay.

She knew that it had to be this way. He had tried to kill her, after all. If he was still alive, she and her siblings would have to flee from Ylisstol, where they would always be in danger.

But she had still thought the world of him.

It all felt like a dream. Everything and everyone moved around her in ways that made no sense. There was no left or right, no up or down. The world just kept passing her on by.

Not for the first time, she wanted to be able to wake up from it. Wake up to a world where her father was still alive, where the only thing she had to worry about was leaving the comfort of her bed and making it to Tomas's lessons on time.

Faintly, she heard stones click against each other as Lord Bartholomew sat down beside her. An arm reached over her shoulders, keeping her on the ground.

Emmeryn let her head fall into her hands.

* * *

Again, Lucina had run.

She ran away from the carnage she'd caused in the streets. She ran away from the girl she'd left to bear the weight of the kingdom. She ran away from her family.

All of this was her fault. If she hadn't been here, this attack would have never happened, and Tomas wouldn't have decided now was the time to turn against Emmeryn. With Tomas dead, she had lost a vital piece of information. If she stuck around, who knows what else she might lose.

She had already done enough damage. She needed to find a way to get out of here.

Pressed up against an alleyway, safe to say, she hadn't had much luck with that. The skies were swarming with Pegasus Knight patrols looking for her. Just a few blocks away, she heard a group of soldiers ask someone if they'd seen a "blue-haired girl" pass by, and as the setting sun dyed the road a fiery orange, she started to resign herself to the cold Ylissean night.

 _There's always tomorrow,_ she told herself as she reached down to wrap her cape around her body. _Maybe by the morning, they'll be a little less alert, and I'll be able to sip out with the crowd._

A chill passed through her clothes. Lucina gripped the edge of her cape and pulled tighter, but her thumb slipped through a hole in the fabric.

Oh. Right.

Shadows passed over her from the townsfolk rushing to their homes. The sun disappeared beyond the horizon, taking with it the warmth it brought. The long shadows beneath her melted into the dark. Overhead, the sky peeled back to reveal the stars, and as Lucina rested up against the cold stone wall, she began having second thoughts about leaving Falchion behind.

If she had Falchion, she wouldn't feel so vulnerable right now, so weak. It wasn't as if the Pegasus Knight could have stopped her; when Lucina cut her lance in half, she'd been too stunned to pose a threat.

But in the end, it wasn't hers to take.

A shadow fell over her, and Lucina tensed. When she looked up, though, she just found a merchant's cart blocking the end of the alleyway. She sighed in relief. For once, it seemed as if fate had decided not to throw her into the dragon's maw.

As she eyed the cart, a thick white cloth draped over the goods stored in the back, her ears caught the sound of conversation just to the right, and an idea came to her mind. A bit of a desperate one, but desperation was all she had left.

Forcing herself to her feet, she stumbled over the cobblestone toward it. Slowly, she pulled the cloth up, and, with a quick look over the street around her to make sure no one was watching, she dragged herself inside.

The interior of the cart was stale and dry. Lucina had to suppress a cough from breathing in the air. The moment her eye quickly adjusted to the dim lighting, instinct kicked in, scanning the suspicious lumps and goods for any sign of danger.

Two wide red eyes stared at her. Lucina stared back. She blinked, taking in the little red-haired girl sitting across from her, her hair tied up in a small ponytail, and the teddy bear clutched in her arms.

Internally, she panicked. If this girl ratted her out, the guard patrols would find her for sure! Lucina pressed a finger to her own lips and shushed her in hopes that she would understand.

When the girl didn't respond, her fear only grew. She patted down her sides for something, anything she could keep her busy with. The bag strapped to her belt was empty–of course they would be, she'd been in a cell just a few hours ago. She had nothing with her except her clothes, her cape, and the tiara sitting atop her head–

Lucina's fingers closed around it. Her heart clenched at the thought of giving it away–she had it with her for so long that just handing it over felt wrong–but in the end, her better sense won out, and she ripped it out of her hair.

The girl's eyes lit up as she handed over the golden piece. She took it quietly. When her eyes met Lucina's again, she nodded, and she shuffled deeper inside of the cart.

Once the girl was out of sight, Lucina finally let herself relax. The floor rumbled. The cart began to move again, and as Lucina leaned up against the shaky wooden frame, the dull thud of wheels rolling over the stone road resounding through the floorboards, her thoughts wandered back to her father.

Fourteen years. That would be how long she needed to stay away. He wouldn't like it. He had been devastated when she said she would leave, begging her to come back as soon as possible. She felt the same way.

But he needed to grow up without her, as much as it pained her to admit. His place was here, in Ylisstol, where he would become the brave and noble man who could face down the Fell Dragon.

As for her place... well, she had the next fourteen years to figure that out, didn't she?

* * *

**End of Part 1-1**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, the story continues.
> 
> So this took a while to get out. I came up with a draft the first week I was supposed to update, but on Saturday I went over it and I was not happy with how much I had. The next week, my computer decided it had had enough of being alive, and while it was dead I decided to add more stuff to it and now, this is the longest chapter in the story so far! And now I can actually say I update once in a blue moon, because tonight is actually a blue moon.
> 
> Now we're back on track with the original story. Lucina is leaving Ylisse! Emmeryn has to deal with the mess she's left behind (Not sure if I ever got to that actually. It's been some time)! Except now she kind of has an actual reason for leaving Ylisse, and she has actually caused some damage to the past. Fun times!
> 
> On a more serious note I've been rather busy with life things as of recent. Finding enough time to write has been a bit tough (though I managed), but I have been putting other things to the side for it, namely college research and all that stuff. As a result, I've decided to take a little break from this kind of serious writing, at least until I get all the other stuff sorted out. I don't expect it to take forever, and I do want to be back by Christmas break, but until then, I leave you with this.
> 
> (And then he was never seen again)


	15. Chapter 15

**Interlude**

* * *

Aversa was awake long before the morning bells started to toll. The cold air bit into her with sharp, stinging claws, and the thin, burlap sheet did little to stop the breeze from slipping through, aside from digging its itchy bristles into her skin, and her arms shook violently at the icy touch of the wind. Her teeth had begun to hurt from chattering so much, and her head was ringing so loudly it took her a second to realize that the ringing wasn't coming from her head at all.

Keeping her sheet wrapped tightly around her body, she pushed herself off the ground slowly–a difficult task, given how much her arms were still shaking. Aversa groaned, and silently she wished she didn't have to sleep in a room with such a big window. With nothing to keep out the cold, Plegian nights could feel like they would freeze someone to death. Then again, her father told her that she would never be baked alive by the heat of the Plegian day in such a cool room, so it would not do her well to think such ungrateful thoughts.

The burlap sheet slipped from her fingers. Bitter cold doused her skin in an instant, and her muscles locked tight. Aversa cried out and collapsed back to the floor.

For a minute, she lay there, her cheek pressed to the icy ground. She was cold. She was hungry. And she was so tired. She didn't want to move at all, not until her father came back to get her.

But the sun would keep moving across the sky. Servants would come and go through the halls just outside her room. Sooner or later, someone would come to get her and make sure she didn't miss her lessons.

Again, she pushed off the ground. It was easier this time, once her arms had adjusted to the morning chill. They still shook with every move she made, but with the sun leaking in through the windows and warming her skin, they would not freeze again. The floor was still cold against her bare feet, but she hardly noticed as she dragged her body through her empty room and over to the window.

Sand. It was all she could see stretched out beyond the castle gate. The vast Plegian desert, painted pink in the rising sun half-buried in the dunes, was as empty as it had been for the past year. No matter how hard she looked, she could not find any Plegian flags sticking out of the sand, or hear the shouts of a returning army.

It seemed father wasn't going to be coming back today, either.

 _Father,_ she thought, closing her eyes with a worried frown, _what is taking you so long to come home? I miss you._

Silently, she sent a prayer to the Fell Dragon for the safety of her father, just as he had taught her to do, and when she was done, she pulled away from the window. She turned toward the door, only to hesitate after a single step.

She reached down to smell her robes. They were deep purple, like the ones her father wore–a gracious gift on his end. It was important that she made sure they were always clean, especially because she had nothing else to wear.

Carefully, Aversa thumbed over the folds and ran her hands over the cloth, checking for dust or any large stains. For the moment, there didn't seem to be anything wrong with them, so there was little she had to worry herself about. Brushing down her robes and making sure it was pulled up all the way, Aversa took one last look at herself, and once she was satisfied, she made for the door.

* * *

The dining hall was empty. That was fine. Aversa was used to eating alone by now, and today was no different.

_Clink._

Aversa spooned another helping of porridge into her mouth. It no longer made her nervous, hearing that sound echo through the vast chamber. It wasn't as if she cared whether anyone else bothered to keep her company.

_Clink._

Even when other people were around, no one wanted to sit at the back of the room with her. Her breakfast, lunch, and dinner were always lonely affairs. Her father, meanwhile, was always seated so far away, at the front of the hall with the king and his other generals.

He was an important man, she knew, and that was why he got to sit at the front. Aversa also knew she was not nearly as important, so she had to sit in the back. Her father had his place in the hall, and so did she.

_Clink. Clink._

Her bowl was almost empty by now. Only small strands remained at the edges, so she scraped her wooden spoon against the side to clean them off, but they refused to cooperate.

Her father had promised her that, one day, when she was good enough, she could sit at his side. He'd told her that last year, and the year before, and she was starting to think she would never earn her place at his table.

Just like she hadn't earned anything better than porridge for breakfast last night.

Aversa clenched her spoon tight. Her lips pulled into a line, almost into a scowl, before she stopped. She let out her frustration in one long breath.

Father said such displays were beneath her. She needed to learn to keep her thoughts in check, no matter how much she wanted to explode. Be patient, Aversa. Good things come to those who wait, she told herself.

With a shaking hand, she set her spoon back into her bowl. She took another deep breath. No one could ever get what they wanted if they demanded for it.

Aversa considered using her finger to catch the evasive leftover porridge for a moment, before she decided it wasn't worth it. Such behavior, such childish behavior, was improper for a Grimleal to show. They had to act dignified to earn the respect they deserved.

* * *

"Wrong!"

Aversa's head snapped to the side, a red welt on her cheek. Before her, Ardri, the teacher her father had assigned her while he was away, withdrew his arms and folded them back under his coat. His lips peeled back into an ugly scowl.

Aversa turned back to face him slowly. The side of her face still stung, but she refused to let it weaken her glare.

"What did I do wrong?" she asked.

"Everything!"

Hardly helpful. Her lips twitched down. She wiped her sleeve across her face before he could notice, and adjusted the Nosferatu tome in her other hand.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't ask what I mean!" Ardri snarled. He flailed his arms to the side, where a straw dummy lay in glimmering purple pieces on the floor.

"But I hit it," Avera said. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"No, you idiot! I told you to hit the target, not knock it down." Ardri's lips curled down, as something disgusted him. "Your uncontrolled attack shows a clear lack of restraint."

"You didn't say that."

"Don't question my words. I know what I said!"

Aversa keeled over, all the air forced out of her lungs without warning as Ardri drove his fist into her stomach. Aversa collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath, all while Ardri folded his arms across his chest, his beady eyes glowering down at her with contempt.

"I should have known not to expect any competence from you," he growled. "People like you have no need to explore a subject as extensive as dark magic."

Ardri hated her. She didn't know why he did, but ever since her father had left him in charge of her, he had done everything to make her life horrible, and Aversa hated him back. That much, she was sure of.

She hated his pig-like face, she hated his small face. She hated the smug way he smiled whenever she failed, and the vile way he looked at her whenever she got something right.

She wanted him gone, the same way her father could have people he didn't like dragged away with ease. She wanted to punch his stupid pig face in and blast him with the same magic he said she had no idea how to control.

But her father would never approve. _Control yourself,_ he would tell her. _Do not stoop to level yourself with the rabble._

So as Ardri's voice snapped out again, ordering her to cast her spell again, she kept her face straight, and she did what she was told.

* * *

By the time Aversa slipped back into her room, the moon had already begun to peek over the sandy hills. The sun was on the other side of the castle now, and her entire room was cast in shadow. She could barely see the cracks between the stone bricks outlined by the traces of moonlight, and though she knew it was childish nonsense, the deep black lines drawn all across her walls gave her the uneasiest feeling, as if there could be someone else hiding in here.

With a sigh, Aversa walked over to the window and draped herself over the edge.

She knew her father hadn't been gone for that long, but it felt like forever. He'd left her with the task to learn as much as she could while he was away, and while she was sure she had improved some since she'd last seen him, Ardri's horrible teaching made it hard for her to tell.

Aversa moved, propping her head up with an arm, and as she watched the moon rise, she wondered what it was he was doing right now that was keeping him away from her.

Ever since he left, her life was horrible. She had no one to talk to, no one else to show her magic skills to. She had no one to tell her that she had earned anything more than a bowl of porridge to eat and a burlap sheet to sleep in. As soon as her father was back, she knew he would set everything right again. As soon as he was back, she would train herself to be the strongest dark mage in all of Plegia and earn her place by his side.

If he ever came back, that was.

Aversa broke herself out of her head, pulling away from the window with a shake of her head. _No. He will come back,_ she thought. _Father is the smartest man in all of Plegia, in the entire world! He won't die, I know it!_

One last time, Aversa's eyes traced the horizon, searching for any sign of life, any sign that her father was returning. Most nights, it was a fruitless search, and when she did find someone, it was always a stray merchant or messenger. War took a long time, her father always said, and he told her he would not be back for a long time.

A year had gone by now. Wasn't that long enough?

Aversa was just about to give up when, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted movement. A flicker of purple struck the silver moon. Aversa darted back to the window, leaning out as far as she dared.

She didn't want to get her hopes up. It could just be another messenger, come back to tell them to send more troops to the front lines.

When another flag emerged, followed by three more, though, she knew it was not just some lone messenger. Her father's army was returning, and she hoped that somewhere within the approaching mass of soldiers, was her father.

Aversa almost bolted out of her room, before she stumbled to a halt. If he really was here, which he probably was, what would her father think if he saw her like that? He would not expect her to run, or to show how excited she was with his return. It was beneath her.

Quickly composing herself, Aversa dusted her robes, and she strolled out of her room and through the castle's halls, making sure to move more slowly this time.

Getting into the castle's courtyard was no challenge for her. She had traversed these halls so many times, she knew exactly which corners to turn and which doors to go through to find her way around. A few more servants passed her as she pressed on, growing more excited than the last. Whispers passed between them, of casualties, of another looming war, and of the master's return–of her father's return.

Her father was back. That confirmed it.

Still, she wanted to see him for herself, just to be really sure.

When Aversa finally entered the courtyard, she found it filled with bright lights and people milling about. Tables heaped with food were placed scattered about, and soldiers wandered from one to another with cheerful words between them. Torches burned brightly, chasing away the oncoming darkness with warm orange light. Around her, people were talking, hugging, eating, crying.

And Aversa couldn't find her father anywhere in the crowd.

A few people exclaimed angrily as she pushed her way through them. Aversa ignored their cries. If they wanted to complain, they could speak to her father. She ducked, wove, and skipped through legs dusty and worn from battle. A servant girl stumbled into her vision, and Aversa shoved her aside without a second thought. When she heard something clatter to the ground behind her, a pang of sympathy flicked her heart, but she pressed it back down.

The bustling crowd parted for a moment, and Aversa passed a trio of soldiers talking to themselves. She considered stopping to ask for them if they'd seen her father, but when one of them muttered something about getting a drink, she decided against it. Her father hated anyone who drank.

Diving back into the mob, Aversa found herself increasingly frustrated with how hard it was to find her father. She searched through waving arms, dancing bodies, cascades of spilled booze and meat, but she couldn't find even a trace of him, not a flash of gold jewelry, nor a snip of deep purple robes.

The servants said he was back, so where was he? Were the servants lying? Or maybe she hadn't heard them right?

Aversa continued her search, but her patience was beginning to wear thin. She'd waited a whole year to see him again, and now that he was finally here, she refused to believe she couldn't meet him. The lights were too bright, the talking was too loud. Everything and everyone was beginning to eat away at her, and she wanted everyone to shut up!

Aversa bumped into another soldier. She hissed, annoyed at the contact, and for a brief moment, she let her eyes stray to look at him.

He wasn't celebrating. Unlike the rest of the soldiers, he didn't look happy at all. His eyes stared far away, like he wasn't all there, and his lips twisted in a way as if he had eaten something disgusting. It was such a strange sight, it forced her to stop for a moment.

"–a comfortable room. A boy like him needs plenty of rest if he is to grow into his potential." Her father's voice cut through her daze, startling her back to the present.

Her heart leaped, hearing that familiar voice, and suddenly Aversa found herself brimming with newfound energy. She broke into a run, tumbling under the packed soldiers and servants. Plates soared above her, people shouted in anger, but Aversa ignored them all. He was here; she knew he was here, and she didn't have time to stop for anyone else.

She broke through the edge of the crowd, and finally, she saw him.

Validar, her father, paused and glanced back over at her. And in his arms was a boy with white hair she’d never seen before.

Aversa's eyes narrowed. Suddenly, she didn't feel so happy anymore, and against her better judgment, she pointed at the boy.

"Father," she said. "Who is that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. I'm back.
> 
> Sorry it isn't early January or late December like I said it'd be, but 2020 has a way of biting you in the arse, so I had to put it off for some time. And hey, it's 2021 now. Here's to hoping I'll be able to stick to my update schedule and be able to get things out more consistently.
> 
> Pretty excited to get back into the swing of things, with all the new stuff I've got planned for the oncoming chapters. I won't say I don't ever forget things (because I most certainly do), but a lot of stuff is going to come back and be set up, and I'm pretty stoked to see how I can get them down.
> 
> (Also, something else to note is that I made some changes to the description. I received some complaints that the description didn't fit the story, so I had to go over it again, and I'm putting this out so no one gets confused about it)
> 
> Like last year, chapters will keep coming out on Saturday, though I've been considering releasing them bi-weekly instead to juggle with another story I've got in the works. Until then, I wish you all well, and stay safe!


	16. Chapter 16

_Of the many men her father had to serve under him, he never treated any of them like he treated Aversa. What they had was special. Her father had taken her off the streets himself. Without him, she would have died in a gutter long ago. He gave her clothes, he gave her food. He taught her magic and the ways of the Grimleal._

_Aversa knew, without a doubt, that she was his daughter. No one could tell her otherwise, and no one could ever take that from her._

_At least, that was what her father had told her._

* * *

"Father, who is that?" Aversa asked.

Her father looked at her. "Not now, Aversa."

Aversa had not heard his voice in so long. Hearing it now, it should have made her happy, but his voice was so harsh she stopped for a moment.

His dismissal was obvious, even over the din of the crowd. A better daughter would have turned to leave immediately.

Instead, she said, "Why?"

"Because I told you so."

Aversa huffed. Around her, she heard people grumble, and it was then she realized that they weren't alone. A group of Grimleal gathered around the two of them.

Oh. He was busy.

"Okay," she said. "I'll go."

She turned and walked back into the bustling crowd.

It hurt, hearing he didn't want to see her, but her father was a busy man. A lot of people would want to talk to her father now. She would just have to wait her turn.

People danced. They sang. Meals were shared, and below the joyous atmosphere, Aversa slunk through the crowd. It was hard to ignore all the shouting, all the happy noises the people around her made, but she had to. Just because her father couldn't see her now was no reason for her to get angry, or she would leave herself weak to other emotions as well.

Her head struck someone's hand. She glanced up, and she saw their drink fly up. Aversa dashed forward before it could hit her. Behind her, she heard a girl cry out, but she was gone before anyone else could see what had happened.

After weaving through several celebrating soldiers, she emerged by a table at plates heaped with meat. Platters of pigs grilled to a tantalizing brown and cows cut up into slices sizzling and steaming with juice bathed in oil sat over her, close enough for her to get a whiff of their rich and savory scent.

Meat like that was expensive; much too expensive for her father to let her get used to eating it. Rarely was she ever allowed to eat meat.

Without him around, though, there was nothing to stop her from just... reaching out and taking a piece, was there? Her fingers twitched. Already she could feel her mouth watering from the thought. She'd eaten nothing but porridge for the past half-year. One bite wouldn't hurt, would it?

Her father was too busy to see her. He'd never see, and he'd never know. A small part of her, the angry part of her, pushed her on.

But if he did, he would never approve. He kept her from eating meat for a reason. If he ever found out, the punishment would be severe.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of purple. Aversa jumped back and spun around, but to her relief, her father was nowhere in sight.

 _It must have been another Grimleal,_ she told herself, quickly calming down once she realized her father hadn't seen her temporary lapse in judgment. _Yes, father was busy. He wouldn't have the time to look for me right now._

Though, if there were Grimleal wandering about, could that mean he had finished whatever business he had? Perhaps he would have time to speak with her now. Ignoring the temptation to stop and grab a plate from the table behind her, Aversa turned back to where she remembered her father had been, and she skittered away.

When she found him, only a pair of Grimleal were left to listen to him. The boy was there as well, though he didn't count because he was sleeping. Aversa crept closer, and as she did, she heard snippets of her father's words.

"–and as I said, he'll need a decent room if we are to keep him here. We would not want to give him the impression that we are disrespecting him if he is ever to awaken in this vessel."

"Father," she said.

He paused. "I thought I told you not now."

"Are you still busy?"

"Yes. Leave us, Aversa."

This time, she sighed.

She realized her mistake a second later. She'd slipped, even if it was only for a moment. Her father's eyes widened, but Aversa made herself scarce before he could say a word.

She wandered aimlessly through the celebrating rabble, dodging spilled drinks and food. A few people bumped into her, and she would have rebuked them if she wasn't trying to stay unnoticed. She herself had brushed against one or two people, the fading torchlight making it harder to see.

She emerged by another table. This one smelled stronger, the sharp stench of drink a constant fog over her head. A few soldiers hovered around the table, smiling and laughing for no reason at all.

These men smelled bad, and they looked plain stupid too, stumbling around with their ale splashing around in their hands. Disgusted, Aversa moved to step away, but her foot brushed against someone's arm. She looked down, and she found a man sprawled on the floor in front of her, lying facedown in a sickly green puddle stained with... was that blood?

The pointed whiff of copper confirmed it. She could only assume it was the consequences of his foolish life choices.

Aversa made a face. She did not want to be around here. Quickly and quietly, she turned away, and the crowd hid her from that awful scene.

The celebration had begun to wind down by now. With the moon at its highest point in the sky, people started to make their way back to their homes, and Aversa found it harder to stay awake. She'd never stayed up this long; there was never anything for her to do once she had eaten her last meal, and she usually went to sleep immediately after.

This time, though, she was determined to speak to her father, even if she had to stay up all night to get a word with him, and as a happy couple wandered back down the city streets, she finally saw him alone, strolling back to the castle. Hiding her excitement behind a mask, she straightened out her robes and headed toward him.

As she got closer, she noticed the boy still in his arms. So maybe he wasn't completely alone. Still, it wasn't as if he had any important business with the boy, seeing as how he was asleep.

"Father," she said as soon as she got close. "I'm so glad to finally see you again."

Her father stopped. For a moment, she thought she might have done something wrong, but when he finally turned to face her, he didn't look angry. His lips were drawn into a thin line, his eyes narrowed, but that was how he always looked.

"Aversa," he said. "Not now."

"Not now?" She looked around. No one else was here, save for a few soldiers milling about the tables and a servant girl soaked in ale sweeping up the road. "Why not? You're not busy."

"I still have important things to do." He adjusted the unconscious boy in his arms. "Tomorrow. I'll come to see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Aversa frowned. She wanted to see him now. "Don't you want to see how I've been, how much I've learned?"

"I can hardly judge how much you've learned if I'm tired, can't I?"

"But–" Aversa stopped herself. She bit her lip, holding back another protest. No, he wouldn't be able to assess her if he was tired. She could hardly keep herself on her feet right now. She couldn't imagine how hard it must be for father, since he'd been away from home so long.

"Alright," she said.

"Good girl. You head back to the castle first. There are still a few things I need to oversee before I can return."

Aversa nodded. She started toward the castle, her steps going a little higher than before. A few yards away, she stopped to look over her shoulder. Her father was nowhere in sight.

That was fine, she told herself. He promised he would see her tomorrow.

With a hum, Aversa continued back home. That would have to be good enough for her. After all, though tomorrow was so far away, he had given her his promise. She just needed to wait a little more. Good things happened to those who waited.

* * *

When Aversa stepped into the training hall and she found Ardri waiting for her instead, she stomped over to him. Jabbing a finger up at his face, she growled, "What are you doing here?"

"Why so surprised, girl?" Ardri sneered.

"Father told me he was coming to see me today!"

"Really? He never told me anything of the like."

"There has to be some sort of mistake!"

"Oh, forget it, will you? Lord Validar has no need to make time for a brat like you." Ardri barked a laugh. "You're nothing to him, and you never will be."

Aversa was stunned. Her mouth hanging open, she couldn't register the heavy Elfire tome flying toward her until it smacked her in the face. She fell back on the seat of her robes with a cry, and her hands flew up to clutch her nose.

Her nose felt numb. Tears welled in her eyes.

"You're pathetic," Ardri said. "Get up. You have spells to learn."

"Get out."

The words slipped out before she could stop them. She almost covered her mouth, almost tried to take them back.

"What did you say to me?"

But then, she realized she didn't want to take them back. No, not this time.

"I said," Aversa balled her fists, "get out!"

With a shout, she thrust her hands forward. Magic burst from her palms, a bright orange dart that streaked across the room. Ardri gasped. He ducked. The dart exploded into a pillar of flame, casting the entire room in searing orange light.

When the flames died down, the wall behind Ardri was scorched black. His eyes widened.

Aversa could feel what remained of the magic tingling in her fingertips. Sparks jumped between her trembling hands, burning with energy. This power–she'd never felt this powerful before, and now that she had...

Her eyes landed on Ardri. He whimpered, and he scrambled out of her sight.

With that, all the power drained from her body. She glanced down at her hands. At that moment, she had felt like she could do anything in the world. But none of that mattered now.

Finally, he'd left her all alone. All she could do was wait for her father when he showed up. Because he would show up, wouldn't he?

So she sat down. And she waited. And she waited. From when the sun had cast long shadows through the windows, to when it was high in the sky, Aversa sat patiently in the training hall for him to come.

And he would come, she was sure of it. Her father would never lie to her, and it wasn't until three Grimleal walked past her, whispering about something "Master Validar" had told them, that the smallest doubt wormed its way into her mind.

Maybe he just didn't know where to find her? Yes, that had to be it. She hadn't told him where he could find her, after all, and while she thought it was obvious, maybe it'd been so long he'd forgotten where they would always meet for magic practice.

Once the Grimleal had disappeared around the corner, Aversa looked around. No one else was with her. She couldn't hear any footsteps approach. Not that of her father, not that of anyone else.

So, she decided she would have to find him.

Pushing herself to her feet, Aversa set off on her search. She searched through the halls, passing by groups of Grimleal and servants bustling about. It was getting late. As she passed the kitchen, she could smell the castle cooks making dinner inside.

He wouldn't be anywhere nearby, that much she could guess. The kitchen was much too noisy, and if she knew her father, he would have liked to sleep somewhere much quieter.

She was just about to make her way to the other side of the castle when the doors to the kitchen opened. Out walked another Grimleal mage. Aversa might not have paid him any attention, as she had to all the other Grimleal mages before, if it weren't for the bag he held in his hands–a bag that sounded suspiciously like caramels.

 _Caramels were father's favorite candy,_ Aversa thought. _Is he bringing some to father right now?_

If he was, then Aversa decided that her best choice would be to follow this Grimleal.

Of course, she couldn't make it obvious. Most of the Grimleal were irritable people. If he saw Aversa following him, he would get mad, so Aversa hid against the wall. She made sure her footsteps were completely silent as she crept across the stone floor. The shadows served as her cloak, and when the torches flickered, she moved, zipping across the hall as the Grimleal walked onward.

They passed through hall after hall. They turned so many corners, Aversa lost count, and though the occasional piece of furniture gave her a bigger place to hide behind, she could not rest for long, or she risked losing sight of her target.

Eventually, though, the Grimleal stopped by a door. One a few doors away from the Grimleal chapel, and, Aversa noted, on the other side of the keep from her room.

He knocked. A moment passed. Then, the door opened.

Aversa let curiosity take hold of her for a moment. She'd never seen father's room before. What would it look like?

She snuck closer to get a better look. From what little she could see, the room was bright and warm. She could faintly hear a sharp crackling, though she couldn't see a fire burning anywhere, and at the center of the room, she saw a small bed. A little small for what she would have guessed father's bed to be, but maybe she was just seeing things. Before she could check, however, the Grimleal slipped inside the room and shut the door behind him.

Aversa huffed, and she made herself comfortable against the corner. A minute went by. Then two.

Finally, the door opened again. Light spilled out from inside, and Aversa pushed herself further against the wall to avoid being seen. She watched the Grimleal leave without a word, and she listened to his footsteps fade as he strolled out of sight. The second she was sure he had left, Aversa rushed over to the door. She reached up to open it, but she stopped when she heard someone talking.

"Robin, why don't you calm down. Here, if you calm down, I'll give you this caramel."

"I don't want it!"

"Now Robin, that is no way to treat me. I am your father. You will listen to me, or I promise you, you won't like living here at all."

"I don't care! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

A smack echoed in the air. Aversa's jumped at the sound. She flung open the door, afraid of what she would find.

The boy had attacked her father. He stood at the edge of the bed, his arm extended, and his face twisted into a snarl.

Her father didn't look hurt. His eye was closed, and she could see his cheek glow bright red from the hit, but other than that, he didn't seem fazed at all from the boy's attack.

That didn't stop Aversa from rushing to her father's side.

"Father!" she yelled. "Are you hurt?"

Beside her, she heard the rustling of sheets. Her father cursed. Before Aversa could react, he shoved her away. Her back slammed into the side of the bed. She cried out in pain.

The boy did so too, all the way over by the door. He fell to the ground, his arms and legs wrapped up in a string of shimmering purple.

Aversa's head swam with confusion. When had the boy moved there? Why was he there? She glanced over at her father, hoping he would give her an answer.

"Aversa," he said. His voice sounded level, his face the same impassive line he'd always been, but beneath it all, Aversa knew he was angry.

Angry? Why was he Angry?

"Why are you here?" her father asked.

"I... I wanted to find you, father."

"I see."

"Father, you told me you would come to see me."

"I did."

"But... why didn't you come?"

"I was busy."

"You were busy last night!" Aversa whined.

"And what made you think I wouldn't be busy again today?"

"I... I…" Aversa immediately felt guilty. She fixed her gaze on the floor and again, she said, "Sorry father." Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Leave us," her father said. "Maybe tomorrow, I'll come to see how you've improved."

Silently, Aversa trudged back to the door. As she passed through the door, she glanced back down at the boy her father had been busy with. He glared up at her, furious, as if it was her fault he'd tried to run away, and it was her fault she'd suffered the consequences of it.

She glared right back. The moment she pushed the door shut behind her, she let out a frustrated huff.

That boy. Somehow this was all his fault. Ever since father had brought him back, he'd been too busy to see her. This boy had stolen her father from her. She didn't know how, but he'd taken her father's attention away from her.

Then and there, Aversa decided she hated that boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this update's a few days past Saturday, but I had to deal with a few life things first, so the fic had to wait.
> 
> Anyway, I've decided that, until I get those life things sorted out, I'll probably only update every other Sunday, if only so I could keep my sanity and proofread my work before sending it out into the world. The first draft of this chapter was an unreadable mess, so I spent all of Monday trying to get it to work. It's still not one of the better things I've done, but hey, at least people could read it without wanting to throw all their silverware into a ditch.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. I wish you all well, and stay safe.


	17. Chapter 17

Robin knew mother had told him to never talk to strangers, and yet here he was, staring up at the ceiling of a room that wasn't his, forced to sleep on a strange bed by a man who said he was his father.

He wanted to go home. This place, his father had told him, was his home now, but that was wrong. This place would never be his home. His real home was back in the village, back with mother, where the sun shone down on him and warmed his face as he played, and all he ever had to worry about was mother sending him out to chop firewood.

But that was gone now.

Mother was dead. Everyone else too. The townspeople. The other kids. Marth. He'd been helpless to watch as the men stormed in and set houses alight, and he'd seen them drag those left behind the hill, crying and screaming to be let go. He wasn't stupid. He knew what they had done to them.

Robin knew better than to trust strangers, but this man wasn't just a stranger. He was a monster.

All the books Robin had read and all the stories mother had told him said monsters were mindless beasts, angry, hideous, and easy to outwit. This man wasn't like that. He was calm. He was sharp. And worst of all, he was smart.

The clutches the monster held him in were not gnarled and cold, but with stone walls and a fireplace crackling over the stale, dusty air. No sword could break its grasp, no tricks could earn his freedom. He was trapped in here, hidden from even the sun's warmth.

His eyes flicked over to the large wooden door at the end of his room: the only way out of this prison. The only other opening in the room, the fireplace, was much too hot to climb through, and there were no windows, so Robin didn't even know if it was day or night. He had no idea how much time had passed, and any second now, that man could come through the door and do whatever horrible things he had planned for him.

Would he kill him? Would he eat him alive? Robin didn't know, and that scared him.

The man had said nothing was going to happen to him, but Robin knew he was lying. Monsters like him always lied, and if that was a lie, then what was the truth? What was going to happen to him?

He needed to get out of here. Robin looked all around him, at the unmoving walls that trapped him. Through them, a dull throbbing reached his ears.

What was making that sound? He had no idea what horrible things were happening behind those walls, and the repetitive thudding noise echoed inside his head, getting closer and closer.

He needed to get out of here, but there was no way for him to escape. Something was coming here, and all he could do was wait. There would be no escape, not from this, not from this room, not ever.

Someone knocked.

"Breakfast!" a muffled voice called through the door.

The door creaked open. His legs trembled beneath him, though he knew he should have stayed calm. This could be his only chance to escape. There was no room for him to panic.

Instead of his father, a guard stepped through, a plate of food in his hands.

Before he could stop to think twice, Robin bolted past him.

"Hey!" the guard shouted. "Stop! Get back here!"

But Robin did not stop. He would not stop until he found a way out from this horrible dungeon. He rushed past startled servants and guards, rounding corners and barreling through doors in a frantic search for a window, or a doorway leading outside. Every turn he took, every room he entered looked completely strange to him.

When his father had taken him to that room, he had been sleeping, tired after days of travel. Now, he wished that he had stayed awake. If he had, maybe he'd know where he was headed right now.

He looked over his shoulder to see another guard join the first in the hallway. Their armor clanked as he ran after him, and with their longer legs they made quick progress toward him. Their longer reach, too, would snare him if he didn't think of something quick.

Another door opened before him. A pair of servants walked through, carrying two large buckets of fruit between them. Robin darted between them. Behind him, he heard cries and the sound of things tumbling to the ground as the unsuspecting pairs crashed into each other. Someone called for him to come back, but he was already through the next door.

The hallway he found himself in looked the same as the last. But that couldn't be true. If he kept sprinting, he would have to find his way out sooner or later. And so he did.

His path kept going on and on, and still, he ran. One of these turns, one of these doors had to lead outside. Where else would those servants go to find fruit?

"There he is!"

A guard jumped out from another hall to grab him. Robin threw himself to the side. The guard stumbled past him, and before he could turn around, Robin tore away.

Doors flew past him in a blur. Servants that crossed his path swerved out of his way. He could hear more people now, disturbed by the racket of the guards on his tail. Above them all, one voice rose, snarling and angry.

"What is going on?" his father yelled from somewhere nearby. A door in front of him opened, and to his horror, Robin caught a dark purple robe coming through.

He didn't want to die here.

Robin hurled himself around one last corner and pushed through the door in his way. Immediately, the lights brightened. He looked up, and finally, he saw a window just ahead. A clear blue sky waited for him on the other side.

Robin ran faster. Freedom was just within reach. Just a few more seconds and he would be out. If he fell, he could catch himself. If he tripped, there would be nothing he could do.

The door behind him burst open. Robin reached out to pull himself through.

A shape crashed into his side. Robin cried out as he slammed into the wall. He looked up to see who had stopped him. On the floor in front of him, the same girl who'd interrupted his last meeting with his father rubbed a hand through her pale pink hair with a groan.

Anger bubbled up in his throat. He had been so close to getting out, and this girl, this stupid girl had to get in his way. His fist clenched. He tried to stand up, maybe to jump away, maybe to bash her stupid face in, but when he tried to move, he found his arms stuck to his side.

A glowing purple coil wrapped tightly around him. He tried to slip free, but they refused to budge.

"Aversa!"

Robin flinched at the sharp tone of his father's voice. He glanced up. His father's face twisted into an angry scowl, but it wasn't aimed at him.

"Father!" the girl said. She raised her hand to pull herself up, but when she noticed the man's glare, she shrank.

"What do you think you're doing!" he yelled. "You should know to watch where you're going! You could have hurt someone!"

"But father, how was I supposed to know he was there?"

His father scowled. "I don't want to hear any excuses out of you. I thought I trained you to be above such petty things." As guards piled into the room, he spun to face them, and nodding toward Robin, he said, "Take him and follow me back to his room. It seems a private chat with my son is needed."

Robin shivered. As a guard picked by the collar and started to haul him away, a small part of him shouted at him to kick, to resist, to keep fighting, but one look at his father's icy gaze was enough for him to know it was pointless.

What punishment did his father have in store for him once he got back?

* * *

"Robin."

Robin refused to look up, burning holes through the floor with his glare as he gripped the bedsheets under him tighter.

"Robin," his father said again. "Why did you try to run away?"

Why did he try to run away? Because he hated him. Robin hated this man from the bottom of his heart, but he was never going to say it, so he kept his mouth shut and looked the other way.

"I won't hurt you," his father said.

Robin knew he was lying. He hadn't been like this at all the last time, so it had to be fake. This was all an act. With a huff, he moved away.

Thin, wiry fingers curled around his chin and pulled him back to face him. His father's nails dug into his skin, but Robin shut his eyes before his father could get a good look at him. If his father didn't look at him, then he wouldn't see how angry Robin was. How scared he was.

Seconds ticked by. His cheeks began to hurt, and tears pricked at his eyes, but he refused to let them open an inch.

At last, his father let him go and sighed. Robin's gaze was back on the floor the moment he did, glowering at it as if he could rip a hole through it to jump through, no matter how much he wished for it.

"I can see you won't talk." The bed shifted, and his father pushed himself off.

Robin's lips twitched up, but he forced them down. Whatever it was his father had wanted, Robin would never give it to him, even if he would still be punished for it.

Then, to his surprise, his father started toward the door.

Robin looked up. His eyes met his father's, and in an instant, Robin stilled.

"I'll leave you alone to think about what you've done," his father said, "but please, do not try to leave the room again. You're here for your own good."

And with that, he opened the door and walked through, leaving Robin very confused and angry.

This was for his own good? What part of this was good for him? It had to be a lie, there was no other explanation.

And who did he think he was, trying to act like he was his mother? Why was he so calm about this? Where was his anger? He acted so calm, like Robin really was his own child. But Robin would never love him like he had loved mother. That would never happen, not in a million years!

With an angry shout, Robin punched his pillow. He had no idea what was going on. He wanted to find out, but as long as he was here, he didn't think he would ever know.

* * *

Robin watched as his father dug his hand into a small pouch, pulled out a small, round candy, and offered it to him.

"Would you like a caramel?" he asked. "It's from my own supply, the finest in the kingdom."

"I don't want it!" Robin scowled, and he slapped his father's hand away.

His father's eyes slid over to the uneaten tray sitting at the table next to Robin's bed. He tusked, shaking his head. Robin imagined himself kicking the man so hard his legs broke.

"A young boy like yourself must eat to grow stronger," his father said, like he cared at all about what Robin ate.

Taking another candy out from his pouch, his father gently placed it on the desk. "Please, eat. It'll help keep you energized." After a moment's pause, he added, "It's quite sweet too, if those sorts of things are to your taste."

Again, his father stood up and left as soon as he was done. The door clicked shut behind him, and Robin waited until he was sure he was gone before he finally grabbed the candy from the desk and threw it into the fireplace. He watched as it burned, and the sweet, sugary fumes curled around the room and swirled up into the chimney.

His stomach growled. For a moment, a feeling of regret flickered in his chest, but like everything else, he pushed it back down. There was no way he was eating that. If he ate it, it would be like he was actually listening to something his father said, and he would rather starve than do that. Besides, it was probably poisoned, or designed to make him better to eat.

His stomach growled again. Sulking, Robin tore his gaze away from the fireplace. He couldn't deny that he was hungry, but what else was he supposed to do? Accept his father's present? Hah. Laughable.

He'd rather eat the garbage the other soldiers brought to his room than anything his father gave him.

* * *

"I've heard you like books," his father said.

Robin tore his eyes away from the foot of the bed just in time to see his father place down a stack of books on the table. The titles read "Shanty Pete and the Haunted Pirates" and "Wyvern Wars: A Knight's New Hope". Not at all anything Robin ever wanted to read.

"Who said that?" Robin growled. "I don't like books. I hate books."

His father's eyes narrowed. "I assumed someone as smart as you would enjoy an intelligent pastime as reading."

Smart? Robin's scowl grew, and he practically strangled the sheets in his grip. Only mother was allowed to say that!

"Well you're wrong!" he snapped. "I hate books!"

He wanted his father to flinch back. He wanted to see him hurt.

Instead, he just hummed. "I suppose I should just take them away, then."

"I don't care."

Robin watched as his father hauled the books off the table. He moved them up into his arms, and he turned toward the door. As he moved to open it, though, he stopped to throw a long look back at Robin.

"What?" Robin asked, annoyed that he still hadn't left.

"Nothing," his father replied. "You just remind me of your mother."

His mother? What... how did he think he could say that? He'd killed his mother! He couldn't say stuff like that!

Robin opened his mouth to yell back at him, but the door shut in his face before he could speak a word.

His father was a strange, strange man. Robin hated him, and he was afraid of him. But now, he confused him. And Robin did not like being confused.

Mother always told him to never talk to strangers. He never wanted to speak to his father again. But if he did, then he'd never find out what that was about.

* * *

Aversa's father always told her that everything was earned. If she wanted something, only hard work would get her it. She wanted to be strong enough to stand at her father's side, so she'd worked hard to get strong.

Which was why, when she saw her father walk out of that boy's room again, she couldn't understand it at all.

What made that boy so special that her father had decided to spend time with him instead of her? What had he done to deserve that privilege? He didn't spend his life working to earn her father's attention. It made absolutely no sense.

"Aversa."

His voice cut through the silence like a crossbow bolt through her heart, and Aversa sucked in a breath. The temperature in the room dropped, and faintly, she remembered the last time her father had spoken to her here. Maybe if she stayed still, he would ignore her.

"I know you're there," he said, his voice low. "Why won't you speak up?"

She swallowed. "Sorry, father," she replied. "I... I didn't mean to... to come here."

"Of course not."

Aversa winced at her father's tone. She took a step back. "Sorry father," she said again. "I'm not supposed to be here, am I?"

"You are not."

"I'll be leaving now." She started to turn away, but her father raised a hand.

"No," he said, softly, gently. "Please, stay." Slowly, he turned around, fixing her with his red-eyed gaze.

Swallowing again, Aversa did as she was told.

"Everyone does something for a reason." Her father smiled. "Tell me, what is your reason for being here?"

"I... I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

Nervously, Aversa looked away. "It can wait."

"I'm in no hurry. Please," he spread his arms wide, "enlighten me."

"I... I..." Aversa clenched her fists. She hesitated, a thousand ways to ask her question tumbling through her head. At last, she settled on, "Why are you here?"

"Why am I here?"

Aversa shook her head. "Why do you keep coming here? Why don't you ever come to see me?"

"Must I always repeat myself?" Validar asked flatly. "I'm busy. This boy, he is important to our cause. It is imperative that I attend to him."

"More important than me?"

"Yes. He is."

His answer was instant. It hurt to hear it. That right now, she meant so little. He would come back to her, she knew that, but she wanted his time now!

She wanted to cross her arms and huff. She wanted to stomp away, show him how angry she was, and maybe, if he saw that, he would change his mind.

"Okay," was all she managed to whisper out.

Her feet wouldn't move. She willed them to take her back to her room, but they refused to. Silently, she cursed her stubborn feet.

"Aversa."

Again, Aversa snapped up. For a moment, she thought he might change her mind. Maybe he had seen how frustrated she was. Maybe he'd realized his mistake.

"I've told you before," he said, "that everything is earned. My time is the same." His lips pulled into a scowl. "If you want something, you must earn it. There are no exceptions to that rule."

Then, he turned and walked away, leaving Aversa to stare at his retreating form.

Earn his time? Why now? What had she done to deserve this?

She turned her head to the sky. A breath rushed out her lips, one she didn't even know she'd been holding. All her anger drained with that one breath, leaving her with nothing to hold her up but her own two legs.

_Why can't things go back to normal?_ she thought.

Slowly, she forced herself around, and she trudged back to her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters a little later than I'd like it to be, but some stuff came up a few weeks ago that pushed back my schedule quite a bit. I've been getting quite a bit of snow where I live, and thankfully the school did decide to lay off on us a bit and give us a day off to shovel snow and stuff. All the snow's quite fitting, considering where the story's going after this little intermission ends.
> 
> Anyway, that's all I've got for this note at the end. If everything goes smoothly, I'll hopefully be able to update by March 7th. Until then, I wish you all well, and stay safe!


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